Of Multiverses and Child Soldiers
by BluSkyRose
Summary: A mysterious plan from a secret society of villains goes wrong, and the team pays the price. One by one, they are pulled into another dimension where there is no Justice League and the mere prospect of a child vigilante is unthinkable. Cover image isn't mine; it belongs to guinnessyde (TJFrias) and MarcBourcier, both very talented artists who can be found on Deviantart.
1. Lost in the Light

**A.N. Stick with it, okay? The beginning's a bit odd, but thing will start to make sense before too long…**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Dr. Madalon in this chapter is based off of an actual doctor I had once…total fruitcake. -.- But he (probably) meant well.**

**Of Multiverses and Child Soldiers**

**Chapter One: Lost in the Light**

It was raining. Heavy droplets of water fell from the heavens to splash down against the ground and into the ocean beside which Young Justice was engaged in a vicious battle with some of Gotham's many criminals. They weren't on a mission, although they _had_ been sent by Batman. They were supposed to be touring the city with Robin in preparation for an as yet undisclosed assignment which was to be undertaken within the next few weeks. That had been the plan, anyway; who knew if Batman would still let them proceed with it after this fiasco.

It was made worse by the fact that they had been in civvies. Well, of course they were; they'd have to be stupid to go to Gotham in uniform if they didn't want a fight. But they had been careless. There was another mission they were supposed to see to after exploring Gotham, so rather than have to go back to the mountain and change, or try to have M'gann erect separate rooms in the bioship (never again—once was more than enough for them) they had simply worn most of or all of their costumes underneath. Superboy wore a jacket over his shirt. M'gann could shape-shift. Robin wore jeans and a hoodie. Unlike Superboy, he chose not to wear his costume, instead keeping only the bulletproof vest. His eyes were hidden both by sunglasses and by the hood shadowing his face. The rest was in a small backpack slung over one shoulder. Aqualad had something similar; he kept the top half of his costume underneath a hoodie of the same design as Robin's, but changed into jeans. Artemis slipped on some baggy sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a backpack to conceal her bow and some of her other weaponry. Kid Flash copied her, also detaching his goggles and headpiece and hiding them in Artemis' backpack when she wasn't looking rather than carry them himself.

All in all, their disguises were terribly flimsy. It was a relatively well-known rule in the Justice League, unless you're there to pick a fight, never go out into dangerous territory with your superhero costume under your civilian clothing. Murphy's Law ensured that the odds of it getting ripped or pulled off somehow were just way too high. But Young Justice was not part of the Justice League, and had no knowledge of this, something that was proving to be disastrous—heavy on the 'dis'.

The team had been just finishing their tour when an old drunkard stumbled out of an alley and grabbed hold of Aqualad's shoulder. He asked for money, please, for an old police officer fallen on hard times. Startled, and seemingly not noticing Robin's warning stare, Aqualad had replied that he was sorry, but he could not help. The man responded by screaming incoherently into Aqualad's face and attempting to yank him forwards into his waiting fist. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, Aqualad stood his ground and did not move. However, his hoodie did. The drunk had blinked once, stupidly, at the emblem half-revealed, then dropped the torn bits of cloth in his hand and ran away, screaming once more.

When the first batch of thugs and gang members showed up, curious about all the yelling—or, more specifically, about the heroes that the drunkard had been babbling about, Robin, aided by Artemis, was still trying to get his team to make like the drunkard and _run_, but they moved too slow, and the criminals in Gotham knew a hero when they saw one, and who knew about the kids in street clothes, but that one in the torn jacket with the red showing underneath was _definitely_ a hero and for them that was apparently more than enough reason to attack. No way was Young Justice leaving their leader to fend off his enraged attackers by himself, and thus, their current predicament; backed up against the ocean, struggling to hold their own.

Artemis shifted to the left to dodge a punch, then got in a blow of her own, turned into a spin kick and knocked the thug down for good. She purposefully wobbled a little on her landing and stumbled a few steps. When they had seen the first gang coming towards them, Robin had hissed that one hero was bad enough, and if it was discovered that there was a whole _group_ of heroes in Gotham they'd have a madhouse on their hands. After all, it wasn't only Batman who was protective of the city. So even though it was exhausting, and most likely a wasted effort anyway, Artemis was doing her best to downplay her abilities. M'gann had already called the bioship; it was hidden two streets over in an alleyway. They just had to maneuver their way out of this mess long enough to escape. Shouldn't be too much longer….Two more criminals moved in, muttering threats she couldn't be bothered to listen to. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and lunged in again.

Superboy had been backed up to the very edge of the dock. Below him was the ocean, dark and murky and clouded with rain. He wasn't worried; he knew he could take the dozen or so half-bit rejects challenging him. He was more concerned about not killing them in the process.

Kid Flash was panicking. Well, no, not quite—but close. He couldn't use his super-speed, and it was psyching him out. He had, of course, trained for this, but that was all geared more towards when his super-speed had somehow been taken away from him, and not when he _could_ still use it, but wouldn't unless he wanted to bring all the villains of Gotham down on his head. And his friends, because one hero with friends with average fighting skills actually wasn't too unrealistic, but if he or any of the rest of them started using their true abilities, thus betraying them as a _group_ of heroes…well now. Especially since they were all, to various degrees, well-known as protégés of the Justice League. The gloves, so to speak, would be well and truly off. And then, when (if) Gotham's rogues got tired of them and make a mistake, thus allowing them to escape, the full wrath of The Batman would descend upon them, and especially upon whoever he deemed responsible for the catastrophe. Of course, the odds of this happening were growing higher each passing moment anyway, but all Wally knew was that he was _not_ going to be the one to slip up and let them all down.

He concentrated, mentally locking his powers away in a box, and joined the fight.

Ms. Martian was totally lost. She had never had to fight like this before. So far, she had survived by morphing her skin into an imitation of Connors' (and thus into a sort of armor) and stealing moves from Artemis' mind as she conceived them, but M'gann was floundering and she knew it. _I hope Aqualad gets us out of this soon…_she thought to herself with a grimace that was part agitated worry and part annoyance. If only she—and the others—could use their powers, this would be _over_ already.

Robin twisted away from a blow and kept maneuvering through the crowd, his keen eyes searching. Something felt _wrong _about this. The way he and his team had been swarmed, so immediately, by so many…it didn't make sense. _Don't think about that now. Figure it out later. Now, you have to fight_. He saw an opening and slammed a random druggie into the ground, restraining the automatic laugh that had earned him nearly as much fear as Batman's glare. It was too trademarked, too familiar to these rough surroundings. Right now, he couldn't let these criminals know who he was.

It was because of that that when the Riddler (_when did _he_ get here? And if he is, does that mean other big-name criminals—no, can't think now, concentrate!_) lunged at him, Robin hesitated (_don't flip, don't jump, don't do anything he's seen Robin do—_) just long enough for the hit to connect and send him spiraling off of the wooden dock, and towards the ocean below. As he fell, he glimpsed Wotan, Klarion, Spellbinder, a magician half-hidden in shadow, and—_Etrigan? _standing in a circle underneath the dock and out of sight of both the heroes and the criminals above them. But he didn't have time to wonder because he was falling (like his parents) too fast, _too fast—_

And then he was underwater and everything was muffled and distant. There was a ringing pain in his ears and his body wouldn't respond to his mental commands. Helplessly, he drifted for a few horrible moments. He felt a wave crash over him, which made _no_ sense, they were at the docks, not the beach, and the force propelled him deeper under the surface. Belatedly, he realized that it was more than simple injury (_was he injured?_) keeping him under; runes shone all around him, and although he could not turn he sensed a brighter light behind him _(so they're working on something in the water…a buildup to a curse, maybe? The gangs—criminals—are they part of this too?)_. He tilted slightly in the water as his lungs began to burn, and was left staring thankfully upwards.

He could see the surface of the water, could see the light shimmering across it, could even see the shaky images of his teammates still fighting furiously on the dock (dangit, if they could fight like he and Batman could—and Artemis he supposed, to some extent—and mask their true fighting abilities while still finding a way to escape, this would be _over_ already. Well, probably. Most likely). But he was trapped, held in place by the same magic was agitating the water around him. His vision was obscured for a moment as he was thrown backwards by a torrent of bubbles, then something took hold of him in a vice-like grip and everything turned white.

His thoughts blurred and skipped in an incredibly disconcerting way, and there was a tingling sensation that reminded him of zeta beams. Something wrenched, there was a pop, and he was flung forward into chaos.

Robin scrambled to the side, trying to get his bearing. He was in the middle of a crowd of people, all screaming and pushing to escape…something. Around them rose tall buildings, silhouettes both strange and familiar at the same time. It almost looked like New York, but some things were…_off_. There were more skyscrapers, for one thing, and several unfamiliar logos and designs.

Robin observed this all in the split second it took him to catch his breath, and then he was up, moving with practiced ease through the crowd until he located the source of their panic; a small army of robots hovering in the air, all made in a style that Robin found completely foreign. Not to mention unattractive, because seriously, the colors alone….

There were heroes too, brightly dressed, shouting to each other as they struggled to drive the androids back while simultaneously protecting the civilians. To their credit, they were doing a good, if somewhat slow, job of things. But the robots had caught on, and Robin watched in horrified disbelief as they stopped targeting the heroes completely and turned their guns downward at the masses still fleeing to safety.

The heroes intercepted the first dozen attacks, but then a stray blast hit a billboard, and another flashed across the crowd to hit a spot of pavement, barely missing a group of teenagers.

As if in slow motion, Robin saw the robot closest to him take aim, saw the gun barrel explode with a brief flash of white, saw where it was going to hit…a young girl, stumbling after her mother…

And then Robin was moving, twisting around bodies, forcing himself through the crowd—_please don't let me be too late—_and then he was there, and she looked up at him, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise, but there was no time, and he flung himself in front of her as the missile collided—

BAM. He heard the impact, even saw some of it through slitted eyelids, and was faintly aware of the girl screaming—good, that was good, it meant that she was okay—but then the force of the blast propelled him away from her and he felt himself skidding along the pavement briefly (_I hope the hoodie isn't too ripped up by this; my costume should be okay, though_), and then there were hands, trying to intercept, and he dimly realized that someone was behind him, trying to stop him before he hit them. It didn't work, naturally, and he crashed into them a second later. Limbs folded around him loosely, and Robin wondered if whoever he had hit was unconscious, seconds before he himself was.

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Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, was just finishing off a Hydra when he heard the scream. It sounded like a young girl—_civilian—_and he whipped around so quickly that his shield was almost torn from his grasp. With a soldiers efficiency, he took in the situation; the girl, unharmed, but very possibly going into shock, staring at a boy—her brother?—as he was hit in the stomach by a stray shot (_how did that get past me?_) and shoved backwards across the asphalt (_ooh...that's going to leave a mark_). But even as he took it all in, Steve was already running towards the boy, who seemed to be unconscious. He managed to grab at his hood and shoulders, awkwardly directing the boy into a collision with himself.

Steve had underestimated the boy's speed and was smacked into the curb before they stopped. The child—no, was it a teen? He wasn't sure—lay still and unmoving in Steve's lap, and a quick check confirmed that he was knocked out. Sparing his team a glance, he determined that they could manage without him for a few more moments. Turning his attention back to the boy, Steve saw that his brow was furrowed and his lips were tightened, as if in pain, but at the same time Steve could see that he was struggling to hide it.

Captain America's eyes narrowed. He knew that look. It was an expression he had seen on many of his fellow soldiers' faces back in the war, when they tried to play down their injuries in order to keep fighting. More recently, he had seen in on Black Widow. Both his old teammates and his new teammate were battle-hardened warriors; that this boy, this _child _would automatically respond to pain the same way that they had…it made Steve uneasy. But then, he was tired, and probably over thinking things.

Absently he noticed that the sounds of fighting had decreased and looked up to see that his team were almost finished defeating the mechanical Hydra creations.

He looked down again to see blood darkening the kid's hoodie. Cursing quietly, Captain America gathered the child in his arms and started running towards the nearest hospital.

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Robin woke up with a pounding headache. He stayed completely still, like Batman had taught him, and tried to get his bearings.

There…a scent he was entirely too used to. The smell of a hospital. He could feel an IV in his right arm, and a hard, narrow bed beneath him that was definitely hospital-issue. Well, either that or it had been made for the military, but somehow he doubted that.

Alright, so far this all tied into what he remembered. He had saved the girl, but had taken the hit himself in the process.

Ah well. Win some, lose some.

Hold on, though…he had also…crashed into someone? But, he could have sworn they had grabbed him first…why would they _do_ that?

Robin _almost_ winced when his headache increased suddenly, but managed to hold it back. He couldn't hear anyone in his general vicinity, but that didn't mean that no one was there. Still, he couldn't play dead forever.

Groaning theatrically, he opened his eyes slightly, then immediately shut them to shield them from the bright overhead light. After a few moments, he opened them again, being more careful this time, and looked around.

He was right; he appeared to be in New York (so it _was_ New York, then…weird) Central Hospital, at least according to the embroidery on the towel hanging from the handle of a small trolley pushed up against the far wall. He craned his neck and saw that it was filled with either medical equipment or torture devices; eh, tomato, tomahto. His wake-up performance had been wasted, he saw, as he appeared to be completely alone. There weren't even any cameras, or if there were, they were well hidden.

To his left there was a medium-sized window. Looking out, he saw that he was two or three floors up. _Hm_. Robin eyed the opening, calculating. The walls were smooth, but not too smooth…there was a flagpole, too…and the window pane didn't look like it would be too hard to move.

Suddenly, Robin tensed. His head swung around, eyes wide, to stare at the doorway. Someone was coming. For a moment, he debated pretending he was still asleep vs. staying awake. Or, better yet, simply disappearing….but no, they were too close. He would stay awake. That way, maybe he could find out more about this new dimension he had found himself stranded in. And he was fairly sure that it _was_ a dimension; too real for an illusion, and it had gone on for too long to be spell or a mental projection, unless the caster was unusually powerful. Unrealistically powerful. He had seen several magic-users combining powers before he went through the portal, true, but a dimension seemed more their style…well, Klarion's, anyway, and the Witch Boy tended to be very true to his style. Besides, if was a mental projection, they never would have allowed him to see them. And it couldn't be his world—dimension, whatever—because even if he was misremembering New York, he _knew_ he had never seen those heroes before, and he knew _all_ the heroes.

They were almost to his door. Robin leaned back and arranged his features so as to appear groggy and unfocused. He could hear them, now; a woman—_nurse, _he guessed—and two men. _A doctor?_ He wondered silently. _Two doctors? No…._He hesitated. Why would there be two? He supposed one could be an assistant of some kind, or maybe…_I have a visitor?_

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"He has a moderate concussion, two cracked ribs, and multiple bruises and lacerations all down his body. We've treated him for his various injuries and are confident that he will, in time, make a full recovery."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you," he said, but the doctor—Dr. Madalon, according to his name tag—shook his head.

"Thank _you,_" he said. "You saved him. Not everyone would have done that." he hesitated.

Steve caught the uncertainty in his eyes. "Yes?" he prompted.

"There is…something else," The doctor confided. His gaze darted down at the floor, briefly, then back up to meet Captain America's. The hero, no longer in costume, could practically _taste_ Dr. Madalon's uneasiness in the air.

"I don't like talking about…this sort of thing," the doctor admitted nervously. "But I can't…_not_ tell you."

"What?" Steve asked after a few moments of silence. The doctor glanced around the empty hallway, confirming that they were indeed alone, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"When I was…examining the patient…" the doctor paused again. Steve could tell that it was very hard for him to say this—whatever 'this' was. His agitation was started to get to Steve. "When I examined the patient," the doctor said again, "I found…" his face spasmed briefly in distaste, and he leaned closer. "_Injuries,_" he whispered. "Not from the accident, I mean. Scars and…cuts…burns…bruises…and some…bullet and knife wounds…" he trailed off, looking sick and vaguely horrified.

Steve frowned, even as his eyes widened slightly at the insinuation. But he didn't want to jump to conclusions. "How many bullet wounds are there? And, aside from them and the, uh, knife wounds, could the rest of it be merely a result of rigorous physical activity, like sports?"

Dr. Madalon shook his head immediately. "No, although he could definitely be in sports; he is extremely fit. But no, I've seen sports injuries, and these…are not. Many are very, ah, precise."

"When you say precise…" Steve trailed off. A ball of cold fury mixed with nausea and horror was growing in his stomach.

The doctor pretended not to hear, but his expression told the Captain all he needed to know.

Steve nodded, almost imperceptivity. His breathing slowed. The soldier in him was taking over, spreading a layer of steely calm and preventing him from doing something rash that he would likely later regret. He started analyzing what he knew, searching for the best course of action like he would if he were forming a strategy in battle. Something clicked in his mind, and he turned back to the doctor, who was watching him anxiously.

"Any I.D. so far?"

The doctor shook his head apologetically. "We still don't even know his name."

Steve nodded absently in acknowledgment, already turning away. "Thank you for telling me this."

"Wait," Dr. Madalon blurted when Steve made to leave. "Don't you want to see him?"

Steve considered this. He could help; had already been planning to, albeit from a distance. With his resources, he could give the kid a new chance, a new family, a new life. But did he really have to meet the kid to do that? Technically no, but….Eh, why not? He made his decision, and turned around.

"Yes sir, I would."

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Robin watched warily as a cheerful woman in her late twenties or early thirties bustled in. She was, some part of him noticed in satisfaction, a nurse, as he had guessed.

"Oh, good!" she said when she noticed him watching her. "You're awake! Good thing, too; you have a visitor," she told him, and Robin noted her broad smile and the blush she turned away to hide. Unbidden, memories of the exact same reaction from Gothamite women to Bruce Wayne came to mind, and for a moment, he couldn't help the hope that sprung up inside him. He was holding his breath when the two men that he had heard earlier entered.

Bruce wasn't there. Robin had to work hard to hide his disappointment. One was clearly a doctor (ha! Right on all counts!) and he set about checking the I.V. and the other machines scattered around. The nurse smiled encouragingly at Robin, beamed at the man still standing in the doorway, and angled the cart out of the room. Robin watched her go, then turned his attention to the man—his visitor, it seemed.

It wasn't anyone he knew, anyway. _Soldier,_ he decided, sharp eyes taking in the military stance and haircut. But he could see the edge of Kevlar-enforced spandex underneath the sturdy jacket. _Hero. Previous soldier?_

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked. Robin spared him a glance—mid forties, small man, nervous disposition, and good at what he did, if a bit too hesitant — then looked away, uninterested. He sighed quietly and took a few seconds to think about the question before he answered. "Tired," he decided finally. "What did you drug me with?"

"Oh—" the doctor blinked. Robin shifted back to look at him, and caught sight of the name tag on his coat. _Madalon,_ he thought, and frowned. _Sounds familiar._

"Morphine," Dr. Madalon told him, seemingly confused as to why someone might want to know what foreign toxins they had been injected with. Or maybe he just hadn't expected Robin to notice. "And some propofol. Obviously, that one's nearly out of your system."

Robin frowned, displeased. _Morphine? I must be really beat up…or not. Their definition of 'seriously injured' and mine are probably different._

"How long was I out?" was Robin's next question. He'd ask about his injuries a bit later; or just assess them for himself. Or maybe steal his own medical file.

"Not too long," the doctor assured him. "A few hours—four or five at the most."

Robin considered this. No, four-to-five hours was not too long. Still, it was longer than he would have hoped.

"Okay," he said. "When can I leave?" _Probably never,_ he thought sardonically to himself. If he was in an alternate dimension, which he was, then that meant that he didn't have any backup, which meant that he was on his own, and no grownup with _any _sense, or morals, for that matter, was going to let an apparently homeless teenage boy out onto the streets.

Still, he figured, it couldn't hurt to ask.

Dr. Madalon withered under Robin's expectant stare. "Well…you see…" he sent an uncomfortable, almost disturbed glance toward Robin's midsection. Robin frowned. _Did they…?_ Internally, he rolled his eyes. _Of course they did. It's a freaking hospital. The people here have absolutely _no_ regard for personal space. Or privacy. He saw my scars and is very obviously struggling to find a way to tell me that unless my parents show up with a really, really good explanation, I am now a ward of the state and am going to be taken away from my family (not that I have any, but they don't know that)._ Robin was almost exasperated with himself that he hadn't figured this out earlier.

There was a part of him—a very, very small part of him—that was screaming, somewhere in the recesses of his mind at this slightly twisted repetition of what had happened to him five years ago. _Not again,_ it cried desperately. _I don't want to go through this again. Just let me go home._

Coldly, Robin quelled that part of him and slipped even deeper into Batman's training. Hurting wouldn't do anything but cloud his thought processes and make this even harder. Right now, he needed to stay strong.

"Where did you get those scars, son?" Robin's gaze flitted away from Dr. Madalon, still squirming next to him, to the man still in the doorway. His eyes automatically went over his jacket again, but the spandex was no longer visible. However, even though he looked like a civilian, Robin could practically feel the aura of power off him. _Like Bruce,_ he thought before he could stop himself, and winced.

Taking a deep breath, Robin quickly reviewed his options. "What scars?" he answered a question with a question.

Army-hero-stranger-guy's eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. He gave Robin a _Don't BS me_ look, which was disregarded. The doctor started to say something and stopped. They ignored him. After a brief, awkward silence in which Robin and the stranger held a staring contest (bored and indifferent for Robin's part, intense and piercing for the other's), he coughed, stammered something about being in the hallway if they needed him, and scurried off. The (ex?)soldier moved to let him pass, then moved closer, to Robin's bedside, by the window. Seemingly oblivious to the way Robin was staring at him in suspicion, he pulled the only chair around and sat down in it. Robin followed his every movement. He broke eye contact when the man sat down, and looked away.

There was another pause. When it became clear that Robin didn't intend to break it, the man propped his chin up on one hand. Not really a very soldier-like thing to do, Robin noted. Discharged…at least several months ago, then. Probably over a year. Or he could be new, but Robin doubted that.

"The scars on your shoulders, torso, arms, legs…everywhere, actually," Army guy told him. "According to your doctor, some of them were quite serious."

_Not that many, _Robin thought, annoyed. Dr. Madalon was _not_ his doctor. Dr. Leslie Tompkins was. "Oh, yeah. _Those _scars," he said. The sarcasm wasn't helping anything, he knew, but he was just so bloody frustrated… "I tripped," he told Army guy flatly. "Why? Who wants to know?"

"Well, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," the Army guy said evenly. Robin said nothing. "Tell you what," he continued when it became obvious that Robin was not going to answer. "We'll drop that for now and go back to it. My name's Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America. What's yours?"

Robin tilted his head in thought. He could refuse to answer. But there wasn't really much point in that. He needed information, and talking to this man—hero—Captain America sounded like a hero name—was the easiest way to get it (Mentally Robin did a victory dance. He was such a genius. Wait, though—the confirmation that soldier guy—Steve—was a hero made him realize something…). Besides, it wasn't like he had to be honest.

"My name's Johnathon Wayne," he said. "But you can just call me John. You were there, weren't you? When the snake…robot…things…attacked. You—were you the one who stopped me from hitting the curb?"

Captain America smiled. "Yes. That was me."

"Oh. Thanks for that, then," Robin said. He meant it, too. He'd been more or less flung across the ground; he didn't know how fast he'd been going, but it had been _fast._ Hitting the fence—or maybe the curb, he wasn't entirely sure what direction he'd been thrown—would have been very painful. Not to mention there was a chance (a slight chance, but still a chance) he could have broken his back.

The captain accepted it with a nod. Knowing his own skill level when it came to deception, Robin correctly surmised that his lie about his name had passed undetected. As always, he felt a pang of guilt, but it passed quickly.

"So, John..." Mr. Rogers continued. Robin noticed his sudden, if mostly hidden, unease. _He's about to ask me about my scars again,_ he thought with conviction. This was confirmed a moment later when Mr. Rogers told him that he had rather an impressive collection of scars. "You want to tell me where you got them now?" he asked.

Robin looked down, acutely aware of the captain's gaze on him. He was, of course, going to lie, but how much?

He looked up and met Captain America's steady gaze. _Eh, to heck with it,_ he decided. Not like he could pretend it was an accident, not with that many scars.

"Foster care," he said with a carefully crafted tone; almost emotionless, but with a slight tremor underneath. "Some of those families—heh, 'families'—are pretty messed up." There was a touch of bitterness in his voice that wasn't completely fake; he really had spent time in the 'system before Bruce had come and gotten him out.

Robin waited long enough to let the captain reign in some of his surprise (obvious to Robin, anyway, if not to the casual observer), but not long enough for him to say anything else before asking, "Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Uh…no," the captain told him. Robin hid a scowl. _Darn it._ "Are you still in foster care? Who are you living with now?"

Robin adopted a patient expression and stared up at the ceiling in apparent fascination. The captain rubbed at his temples briefly.

"Alright then. Can you tell me why your clothes were wet?"

Robin blinked, than put on his best I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about-and-am-innocent-of-any-and-all-crimes face while he figured out what the Captain was talking about. "Oh." _Oh, yeah._ He had actually forgotten about that. "I was hit by a hose." He managed to make it a statement, rather than a question, but still winced at how pathetically flimsy it sounded.

"A hose full of salt water?"

Heh…not really much he could say to that. Why did Steve (Mr. Rogers, whatever) even know that, anyway? Robin shrugged and picked at a spot on his blanket. Mr. Rogers sighed.

"Okay. Can you tell me why you were wearing a bulletproof vest? And how, despite that vest, you managed to crack two ribs _before_ getting hit by a Hydra?"

Hydra? That's what those robot things were called? And he'd been hit with a blast from a Hydra, not the actual Hydra itself. Accuracy, it's a good thing. And when had he cracked his ribs? He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully as he cast his mind back. Come to think of it, there had been that gang leader who had picked him up and thrown him at a wall right at the start of the fight…a _brick_ wall. Yeah, it had probably happened then.

"I think I got slammed into a wall," he said truthfully. Mr. Rogers appeared to accept this and continued.

"Why was the vest so detailed? I didn't know they made them like that." There was honest curiosity in his voice, and Robin grinned.

"I had it custom-made," Robin answered easily. "Just for kicks. Role-playing and such. I did it with my friend Wally."

"Wally?" the captain repeated.

"Wallace Crock," Robin clarified, trying not to think about what Artemis would do to him if she found out he had covered for Wally's secret I.D. by giving him her last name. "But he goes by Wally."

The captain made a mental note of the name. "One more thing."

"Shoot," Robin told him, although he had a good idea what Mr. Rogers was going to ask.

"Who hurt you?" and now his stare was intense again, those clear blue eyes daring Robin to lie. "Who hurt you?" he said again when Robin didn't immediately answer, softer this time. "And who are you living with now? Are you living with anyone?"

Robin held his gaze, but his brow was wrinkled in thought and his eyes were distant. (_What should I say, what should I say) _ "…a lot of people," he admitted quietly, purposefully ignoring the first question. "I'd give you a list, but I don't know most of their names."

Mr. Rogers exhaled slowly. "But you do know some of the names?"

"Maybe," Robin said, calmly, though there was an icy glint in his eyes that warned Mr. Rogers not to take it any further. Mostly because he was lying and didn't know how much farther to carry his deception.

Robin saw curiosity flicker briefly across Captain America's face. He kept his own face impassive and waited.

"You're going to need somewhere to stay for a while until you heal," Mr. Rogers said abruptly. Robin blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Since you won't expound on your current living locations, I can't, in good conscious, send you back to what may or may not be an abusive home. So until we figure out what to do, why don't you come and stay at the Tower?"

_The tower?_ Robin wondered silently. Mr. Rogers had said it as if the specific tower implied should be obvious. If he was a hero, did that mean that 'the tower' was this world's equivalent of the Watchtower?

Robin hesitated. Captain America took his silence as a 'Yes'. "Good," he said authoritatively. "I'll tell Dr. Madalon."

And he swept off, leaving Robin staring after him in mute astonishment.

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Steve sighed and resisted the urge to slump heavily against the wall. What was _that_? The last fifteen minutes had been some of the strangest in his life; or at least, when it came to interactions with children. He shook his head in bewilderment. John—if that was indeed his name, though Steve _thought_ it was, he hadn't detected any trace of a lie (well, not about that, anyway)—didn't act like any child he knew. He didn't act like a child at all! He was flighty and scared, nothing Steve hadn't seen before, but his reactions…oh, his reactions.

And those wounds! Scars now, but some were still recent, the doctor had told him. John had been surprisingly honest about those, too. Not as much as Steve had surprised himself, though. Seriously, what had he been _thinking?_ Inviting the kid to the Tower. But it wasn't just that; the whole thing, from the moment he stepped into the room to the moment he left it, had gone…not badly, exactly_._ Just…_strangely. _He supposed he could have pushed the kid more, but he had gotten a feeling, a sort of intuition, that it wouldn't do any good.

He had been honestly unnerved by the scrutiny of those intense blue eyes, a rare occurrence that had shaken him and made it hard to think. He still wasn't sure what exactly had happened. He had done his best to keep up, but, infuriatingly, he had gotten the distinct impression John had more understanding over the situation than he did. Steve wasn't used to that. Usually, it was the other way around, and he was the one in control. Although…that part at the end had come as a surprise to both of them. Steve still didn't know where that had come from. He just had a feeling he should keep John under surveillance. He should his head in exasperation. He'd never done anything even remotely like that before. Normally he was all about respecting the civilian's privacy. But that kid, there was something weird about him. Not bad, necessarily, just…different. He didn't know exactly why. Natasha might know.

Wait. Natasha.

Steve let out a soft 'oh' of realization. _That _was what was strange about the kid. He reminded Steve of Natasha. Steve went still as he processed the implications of that. Natasha was a trained fighter. She might have at one point been an assassin. He'd never asked. He just knew that her methods had—emphasis on _had—_been somewhat questionable. She had killed people; innocent or not, Steve didn't know. But now, to feel the same vibe from some random—twelve? Thirteen?—year old kid; that was creepy.

Of course, the kid wasn't an assassin. He couldn't be. Up until that moment, Steve had thought that the kid was a victim of abuse. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure, some things about him were…_odd_, but nothing too bad. Nothing like some of the things Steve had experienced in his career as a hero. But now a dark suspicion was growing in his mind. Not an assassin, no…not yet. After all, Natasha had been, what—eight when she started? But Fury—S.H.I.E.L.D.—had promised….oh, Captain America had better be wrong, or Nick was in some _serious _trouble, number one S.H.I.E.L.D. commander or not.

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Robin sat calmly, regarding his hands. They lay perfectly still in his lap, giving no hint of the chaos raging inside his skull. The full implications his predicament were setting in, and Robin was having the Bat!equivalent of a panic attack. Silently, he indulged in a few seconds of self-pity—_why me?—_before moving on to more constructive thoughts. Such as, _what do I do now? Because I really have no idea._

He supposed he could slip away before Captain America came back. That would probably be the easiest thing to do. He could steal his medical files and hack the computers, thus erasing all traces of his existence from the hospital records, then disappear before anyone realized anything was wrong. Of course, whether they thought he had been kidnapped or left on his own, his exit would raise some questions. And since Captain America was involved, it would likely catch a lot of peoples' attention.

Or he could memorize his medical information instead of stealing, put everything back the way it was, and disappear. Change his hair color, eye color, whatever. He did have some money hidden away in his backpack, and he knew the best places to look for clothing that wasn't wanted and wouldn't be missed. People would still be looking for him, but he was confident in his own evasive abilities. He could lay low, look for a way…back….

Robin grimaced in annoyance. No, that wouldn't work. He could hide easily enough, yes, escape detection for years on end…but he wouldn't be able to find what he needed to start building a portal. At least, not without stealing a _lot_ of very valuable equipment and catching most every law-enforcement agency in America's attention, anyway. And it would _still_ take a while to figure out all the technical details and assemble it by himself.

So. How to get home. He could join up with a random, powerful organization, work his way into their ranks, then run the moment he found what he needed.

No. Too risky. Even if it worked, they would be angry, maybe enough to follow him back. Also, because of his age, he'd have to showcase far too many of his talents before they would consider letting him in. At least, he'd have to for any organization good enough to serve his purpose. And if there was one thing Bruce had taught him, it was to _never_ give away his secrets. Ever. No matter what.

That left him with only one option; infiltrate the watchtower-that-was-not-the-watchtower (which should be pretty easy; after all, he'd already been invited inside by one of their own) and try to get a better feel for this world and figure out some more of the differences. If the heroes had the right technology (and he a feeling they did; he'd seen that red-and-gold robot they'd had on their side. It had looked even more advanced than Red Tornado!), then he could use it to recreate the portal that had transported him here in the first place. Being heroes, they might even help him, if he told them what he was doing.

But telling them was definitely a last resort. If he could, he'd be there and gone before a month had passed. They would never know what had happened to him.

Robin let a predatory smile steal across his face. _Perfect._

**A.N. Ta-da! End of chapter one. :3 So? Whatcha think? Oh, before you tell me, there are some things that must be explained. First; no one has looked through Robin's bag. Steve didn't think of it (he actually forgot all about it), and the doctor saw no reason to mess with it when Robin was brought in, choosing to focus on the bigger issue—that is, Robin. And then he saw all those scars and was distracted.**

**Second; the names. I was very deliberate with how I used them, in costume and out. See, I figure the heroes have slightly different personas in their different identities. Sort of how people often act differently around their family then they do around their friends. How different it is depends on the hero. To me, civilian identities are a little (or a lot) less professional, in the way they handle things, a little less assertive, a bit more...**_**normal.**_** Typical. Not as formal. So you'll see that Captain America/Steve Rogers went back and forth a lot, but Robin stayed 'Robin' the whole chapter. That's because to Robin, he's still on a mission. And he'll **_**stay**_** on that mission until he reaches his objective—in this case, getting back home to the manor and to Bruce. Until that happens, he's determined not to lower his guard for anyone.**

**However. Robin is still thirteen years old, no matter how mature he claims to be, and there is a very real part of him that's just collapsing from all this. I mean, he's in a different **_**dimension!**_** That is just so freaky-odd. And scary. Terrifying, even. And even though he's stayed outwardly calm, he's in utter turmoil because of it. But, he won't show it. He hasn't even admitted it to himself, and chances are he's not going to. But it does still come out in some ways. Like his current insensitivity towards everyone and everything else around him. He's going home, and that's all that matters to him. Sorry if that makes him a bit OOC right now, he'll straighten out soon.**

**Next chapter—we get to see what happened with that fight Robin was teleported away from, not to mention Batman's reaction to everything. Also, the Avengers minus Hawkeye have a meeting at Captain America's request.**


	2. The Spell is Set

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

**Chapter Two: the Spell is Set**

Superboy heard Robin hit the water, but couldn't react immediately; he was too busy trying not to accidentally kill the gang members in front of him. He finally succeeded in downing the two idiots, and whirled around to punch Riddler once in the face as hard as he dared. "That's for what you did to Red," Superboy growled, picking a codename at random for Robin. He shoved past the super-villain, who was now writhing on the ground clutching a broken nose. Just then, he became aware of a faint buzzing sound, so quiet he actually had to strain to hear it, but only for a few seconds. It stopped, but returned, louder and more insistent. It was emanating from the water where Robin had fallen. Superboy hurried to the side and looked over to the faint ripples still visible below. He could see a glowing shape maybe ten feet underneath the surface. A dark silhouette drifted in front of it, and with a surge of panic Superboy recognized Robin. _He's not moving. Why isn't he moving?_

He watched as Robin moved suddenly backwards as if pushed by an invisible Atlantean.

Superboy blinked. An Atlantean! He could have slapped his forehead. _Hello, Superboy!_ He started to turn away, scanning the docks for his dark-skinned friend, but the humming increased again, pulling his attention back to the water. There was a sense of urgency in the noise, heightened by a sort of metallic growl growing in the background, setting his teeth on edge. It was audible even to the other fighters, now, and many looked up in confusion. Superboy ignored them and watched the light expand to swallow Robin. It shone bright, painfully so, and disappeared with a brilliant flash. Superboy stumbled backwards, temporarily blinded. He failed to notice the rune that appeared on his chest, shuddered briefly, and faded away to nothingness.

"Hguone!"* A voice barked sharply from somewhere underneath the stunned fighters. Many of them gasped and looked down, taking involuntary half-steps back. "Uoy evah devres ruoy esoprup. Won og!"**

Superboy blinked in surprise and confusion as the criminals they had been battling scant seconds earlier turned passively and walked away, some banging into poles or stepping off the pier. Incredulously, Superboy watched several shimmer and dissipate into thin air. The rest walked back into the city, slack-jawed and vacant. Within moments, the dock was empty apart from him and his teammates. Aqualad counted heads, and Superboy saw his eyes widen, then narrow, when he realized that they were one short. "Where's…Robin?" He demanded, somehow retaining his aura of authority despite the fact that he looked ready to collapse, his hoodie was in tatters, and superficial wounds were scattered across his thick Atlantean skin.

"Gone," Superboy told him. A sudden sense of urgency and paranoia made him glance over his shoulder. "I'll explain later, but right now we should leave," he said hurriedly. "I don't know what just happened, and right now, I don't want to find out."

"Agreed," Aqualad nodded, and Superboy thought it was a mark of how truly exhausted they all were that no one argued. M'gann called the bio-ship, and they all trooped inside. Superboy saw Aqualad count everyone at least eight times, repeatedly ascertaining that Robin was the only one missing.

Kid Flash hesitated as he came into the ship, blinking slowly as he finally processed what was going on. Superboy felt a surge of annoyance at this momentary pause, and, if he had been closer, might have yanked Wally in himself.

"Wait," Kid Flash blurted, stopping M'gann before she could close the ship's entrance. "We weren't actually just about to _leave_ Robin, were we?"

A sudden wave of confusion enveloped Superboy. "I am...fairly certain he's gone," he said, slowly. "But—he disappeared in the water over there, so if—"

Before he could finish, Aqualad was already halfway along the dock, and then diving into the water. There was a sort of whisper in his ears, and Superboy had a vague sense of coming back into himself. He felt suddenly stronger. The world sharpened around him. With a feeling of disbelief, Superboy realized that he—_they_—had been about to leave a teammate behind. They hadn't even looked for him! In five long strides, Superboy was back outside the ship, leaning precariously over the water. He watched as Aqualad resurfaced.

"M'gann," Kaldur said, urgently, "Use your telepathic powers to locate him."

"I'm trying!" The Martian girl gasped, skin flushing green with effort. She and Artemis had followed the boys to the edge of the dock. "There was a—a disturbance...just a minute ago," she said, eyes closing as she remembered. "A voice—I hadn't even noticed it—but then it stopped, and there was a sort of..._flex_...underneath us, in the water. Like—a lot of power. And then it was just—gone."

"Robin?" Aqualad asked sharply. His eyes were blazing with emotion, but none of it directed at her. Something strange was going on, and they were going to get to the bottom of it.

"No...no, he was already gone, before the voice stopped." Ms. Martian frowned in concentration. "I—" he voice broke for a second, but she composed herself and continued, "I don't know why I didn't do anything...it just felt natural to ignore him. I didn't even _think _about it!" her eyes opened, and Superboy could see the anguished misery in their depths. Artemis put her arm around Ms. Martian's shoulders in silent support.

"It was like that for me, too," she confessed. "I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't focus on it. It was like someone was whispering in my brain, telling me it was okay, and not to worry, and just fight…I didn't even realize until just now."

Aqualad sighed heavily. He had climbed back out of the water and stood next to them. "So how…_exactly_…was Robin abducted?" he asked Superboy. "Tell me what you saw."

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After Superboy explained as best he could, the team scoured the deck and surrounding area for clues. There was nothing immediately discernible, but eventually their tenacity paid off and they discovered the remains of what was clearly a magic circle beneath the docks. They called Zatara, then, and he sent them back to Mount Justice while he and a few other League members took a look at it. There, they faced their biggest challenge yet; confronting the Batman.

As their leader, it fell to Aqualad to relate the events of that morning. When he was done, the hall fell deathly silent. Batman stared at each one of them in turn. No one dared to move.

"So…" he said, deceptively calm. "_You_ made a mistake…and because of it, my protégé is in some unknown location, presumably at our enemies' mercy—or lack thereof?"

Aqualad tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't. "Yes sir," he said, and was amazed how steady his voice was, if very, very quiet.

"I see…" Batman said softly. For a moment, everything was still. Young Justice didn't know what to expect. Half of them were waiting to be attacked and killed, or maimed at the very least. The other half were waiting to be verbally assaulted and destroyed with words alone, then banished to the far ends of the galaxy to suffer out the remainder of their lives in misery.

Batman did neither. He turned the full force of the Batglare on them for what seemed to be an eternity but was actually only a few minutes. Finally, he looked away. "You are dismissed. Now get out of my sight," he half-growled, half-whispered. The team was only too happy to comply, and scattered.

Batman stood for a moment, listening to them leave. Then he called up the zeta-tube and teleported to Gotham.

When he got to the docks, he found Zatara kneeling, studying the ground and muttering to himself. Knowing better than to interrupt the process, Batman stood back and waited. Several minutes later, Zatara stood, looking tired and frustrated.

"Have you found anything?" Batman asked. He knew Zatara had been there for at least twenty minutes trying to ascertain the events of almost an hour ago.

"Some," Zatara sighed. "I cannot say much for sure, but one thing we can be certain of is that this was premeditated. Some of the preparations must have taken months."

Batman's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, but he otherwise did not react to the news. "I thought so," he muttered, mouth turned downwards in a definite frown.

"And something else—" Zatara's voice took on a troubled tone, and he rubbed his temples as if warding off a headache. "Whatever they were planning to do, and I do not know what exactly that was, it went wrong. Wherever they were planning to send Robin, he's not there."

Batman instantly understood what that meant. "We have no way to track him," he realized. Zatara inclined his head gravely.

"I'm afraid you're correct," he said. "Robin is safe from Klarion and the others, most of whom I am still trying to identify by the feel of their magic, but he is also hidden from us. We may still find him, but I won't lie; the odds of that are—"

"Astronomical. I know." Batman's gaze was lowered, brow creased in thought. Thus far, he had retained an almost disinterested façade, locked firmly in his Batman persona. But this news nearly destroyed that as a rush of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Taking a deep breath, he locked it all away once more. Later. He would deal with this later.

Zatara watched him sympathetically. Having a daughter of his own, he understood the enormity of Batman's loss. Oh, nobody had ever been able to tell for sure whether or not Robin was Batman's son, but Zatara had seen the way they acted around each other, and in his mind there was no question. Robin had been Batman's son, possibly his _only_ son. It would take Batman a long time to recover, assuming he ever did.

Abruptly, Batman looked up. His gaze was penetrating, and in it Zatara could see the desperate determination of a man not yet ready to let go. "Then I have no choice," he said in a clipped monotone. "I will search the dimensions, one by one until he is found. Zatara, can I count on you to help me?"

Zatara studied him for a moment, not even bothering to try to hide his astonishment, which was directed more at the mere thought of it than the fact that Batman had suggested it. "My friend…it will be quite difficult," he warned.

"Will you help me?" Batman's tone implied that he wouldn't ask again.

Zatara sighed. It was impossible, what Batman was suggesting, completely and utterly hopeless. But…if it was his daughter, lost…would he accept it, or would he attempt the impossible? "…Yes, I will help you."

Batman nodded once, then turned and strode away.

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Tony Stark, a.k.a. 'Iron Man', was having a Very Unusual Day. First, a sudden glitch in his systems had J.A.R.V.I.S. playing Tony's five favorite songs over and over on a loop for an hour before Tony could fix it. It would have been aggravating, but…Tony really did like those songs.

Then, Bruce had completed a whole pile of Tony's paperwork in thanks for something Tony didn't even remember. If Bruce hadn't, Pepper would probably have ended up doing it instead; as it was, when she found her schedule suddenly a lot more free then it had been before, Pepper had come to visit Tony in a gorgeous outfit she'd apparently gotten at Christmas, but had neglected to wear until just then. They'd gone on a marvelous date, despite a flat tire (it was a new car, too! Seriously, what the heck?) and a sudden rainstorm near the end of their evening. When they'd gotten back to the tower, Pepper had given him a kiss and told him, smiling, what a wonderful time she'd had.

Wow. That hadn't happened since…a long time ago. Their dates were interrupted so often that Tony had come to expect it and was surprised and a little wary when they weren't.

Still. Pepper was happy, and that was what mattered.

After their date, Tony was just innocently walking through the Tower when he'd been tackled by Hawkeye, who had been accidently drugged with the wrong dosage of morphine after the Avenger's last big fight. Tony still had bruises from being pushed down, and a few superficial cuts from the ensuing chase, as he and his teammates tried to catch a hyper and highly confused Hawkeye. It'd been Thor and Black Widow who had finally taken him down, and Hawkeye was currently recuperating in the hospital wing.

After that little episode, Tony had realized that Steve—Captain America—was missing. He'd come home briefly after their fight with Hydra, then disappeared. Since he had told Bruce, Thor, and Natasha he was leaving, no one was particularly worried. However, the fact that he hadn't told anyone where he was actually going, or when to expect him back, bothered Tony. Because of that, and his mounting boredom, Tony decided to go looking for him.

But just as he was walking out the front entrance, lo and behold, Steve came walking up the drive. Tony immediately noticed Steve's preoccupied demeanor; his gaze was distant and his expression troubled. When he saw Tony standing there, some of the worry seemed to lessen.

Tony smiled easily. "Hey, soldier," he greeted. "I was just about to go looking for you. What's up?"

Steve hesitated. Tony noticed with interest the way that his military stance seemed to have slackened somewhat. "I am…not entirely certain," Steve admitted. "I need to speak to you and the others."

Intrigued, Tony raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Come on, let's get inside, and we can call the others. Except for Hawkeye—he's out for the count. Too much morphine," he added, at Steve's inquiring look. "But don't worry, we can catch him up later."

Once everyone was gathered in the conference room, all eyes turned to Captain America.

"I want to bring a child into the Tower," he said. "Temporarily," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Mystified, Tony glanced at the others. "Um…okay," he said, slowly. "Why?"

"Because he doesn't legally exist," the Captain said. "And I think he's in some sort of trouble, I found him after he took a shot to save a little girl who says that she doesn't know him and hadn't ever seen him before that. I can't find him on any records anywhere. I suppose he could have lied to me about his name, but I don't think he did. He's got scars all over his body, obviously the victim of abuse. He won't tell me about that, either." He hesitated. "He is…strange. I need somewhere to put him until I can figure out what to do with him."

"You could just let the system handle it," Bruce pointed out gently.

Steve considered this briefly. "…I don't think the system is equipped to handle this kid," he said finally. He glanced quickly over at Natasha. "He's been trained…for what, I'm not sure. But whoever did it is sick. Really sick. I…I think he might be one of Fury's pet projects, actually. I mean…I'm sorry, but the guy does kind of have a track record for this sort of thing."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, but she didn't deny it.

Thor hefted his hammer. "On Asgard, it is forbidden to send children into battle. Training is allowed, yes, but not war. Surely it is the same on Midgard?"

"Not exactly," Tony told him. "Even just training a child could be deemed inappropriate, depending on how you do it. But we also do not allow children onto the battlefield."

"What sort of scars does he have?" Natasha asked quietly.

Steve closed his eyes briefly as he remembered what the doctor had told him. "A handful of burns…several knife wounds…a few bullet scars…bruises…he had two cracked ribs when he came in, he told me he was thrown into a wall during Hydra's attempted invasion."

Bruce stood suddenly. "Excuse me," he said politely, and left as rapidly as possible without running.

"Huh," Tony said when he was gone. "Who knew the Big Guy felt so strongly about child abuse?"

"Only a very bad and malevolent person would not," Thor said firmly, and they all nodded in agreement.

"If you want to bring him here, I have no objections," Natasha said to Captain America. She stared down at the table thoughtfully, but her shoulders were tense.

Steve nodded at her in acknowledgement and turned towards Thor. "Aye," the Asgardian warrior nodded. "At the very least, we can protect the child from his tormentors."

Steve looked at Iron Man, who shrugged. "Could be fun," he said easily. "But only on the condition that I get to help you track whoever it was who thought carving up a kid was a good idea."

A relieved smile curved Steve's lips. "That's…almost everyone, then," he said.

Tony shrugged again, flippantly. "Eh, Hawkeye'll get over it. And I'm fairly that Banner was on our side anyway. Now our only problem is convincing Pepper."

Steve hadn't thought of that. "I should tell her; it was my idea. Where is she?"

But Tony shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry about it. Go get—oh, hey. You never told us the kid's name."

"Jonathon Wayne, he goes by John," Steve told him automatically. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's all good," Tony waved him off. "Go get Johnny; I'll have everything arranged before you get back."

"…thanks," Steve said.

"No prob," Tony had already stood, and was making his way out. "Just make sure he doesn't get into any of my stuff."

Steve watched the door close behind him, then with a nod at his remaining teammates, made to leave.

"Can I come with you? To get him?" Black Widow asked suddenly. "I am…curious about him," she added as an explanation.

"Sure," Steve said. He was a little confused, but didn't question it. "He's still in the hospital. I asked them to keep him there until I got back."

"I wish also to accompany you," Thor said, rising from his chair.

"Okay. Let's go," Steve said with a smile, gesturing for both of them to follow him. _Well,_ he thought, a little bemused and a lot pleased, _that went well._

***Enough!**

****You have served your purpose. Now go! **

**A.N. Yo. Don't have much to say except everything in this chapter was deliberate. Even the whole thing about Tony's Very Unusual Day. Remember that, it is actually related to…actually, I'm not sure I can say without spoilers…well anyway, it wasn't random.**

**Please give me feedback…I hate this chapter so much. . I don't think I managed it very well…thoughts?**

**Also, I've had this thing up for less than 24 hours…1 review, 1 favorite, and 4 follows already? Seriously? You guys are awesome. :D**


	3. Avenger's Initiative

**A.N. It is worth mentioning that if not for the three (absolutely wonderful) reviews I received today, this update wouldn't be up for a few more days…not 'cause I'm sadistic and I need reviews or I won't update, but just 'cause they remind me to stop stalling and start writing. ;P**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

**Chapter Three: Avenger's Initiative**

"I'm sorry, but I just can't seem to remember…did you have a backpack with you when you came in?"

"A backpack?" Robin asked innocently. "No. Why?" Even as he said this, he glanced surreptitiously towards the base of the gurney where his bag lay concealed. It wouldn't do for anyone to start poking around in it, after all. So when he had discovered, to his surprise and delight, that no one had yet bothered to examine either it or the contents, he had wasted no time in deleting its existence from the hospital records and stealing it from the storage room where it had been hastily put upon his admittance to the hospital. Which brought him to where he was now—shamelessly lying to Dr. Madalon's face. The poor man looked so confused.

"I could have sworn…" the doctor scratched his head in bewilderment. He spent a few more moments in frustration as Robin looked on, then seemed to give up on figuring it out and turned his attention to Robin. "Well, anyway…how are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?"

Robin shook his head. "No, thank you," he said politely, plastering a fake smile across his face, a wasted effort; the doctor was looking at his watch.

"Mr. Rogers should be here soon," he said nervously. Robin was suddenly and strongly reminded of the Mad Hatter, who often said much the same thing about Alice.

Robin sighed, pulling lightly at his restraints. As was evidently decreed by hospital policy, whenever a patient was being transferred from one institution to another, they must be transported via ambulance, and thus, gurney. Tying them down (loosely, but still) was just standard procedure. Although this was inconvenient, not to mention uncomfortable in more ways than one, Robin was glad of it, as it was helping him smuggle his backpack out of the hospital.

He still wasn't sure what to expect at his ultimate destination, but hopefully they wouldn't search him there. He'd done some research while looking the hospital records. Apparently heroes were relatively new here. Excepting Captain America, who was apparently much older than he looked, this world's first superhero, and was once a soldier, they had all shown up within the past year and come together as a team just a few weeks ago. Robin was counting on their lack of experience and his own young age to keep them from getting too suspicious.

He ran through the list of heroes again in his head. There was Iron Man (not-so-secret identity Tony Stark), the leader and financial supporter of the team. Black Widow, who he could find almost nothing about (the fact that he had no idea where to look didn't help) except that she dressed in black and looked like a freaking _assassin_, Hawkeye (a pink and purple Green Arrow rip-off), Bruce Banner, a totally genius scientist that despite himself Robin was anxious to meet, and Thor, some sort of magic-alien-person-_thing_ with lightning and a hammer.

All in all, not a bad combination of people and powers. But inexperienced; from what Robin had read, they had only just started living together in something called Avengers Tower (presumably, this was the place Captain America had been referring to). Before that, it looked like the city had had to wait for help every time there was a crisis for their heroes to get their act together and defend them.

Judging from how painfully amateur they still were, Robin doubted that any of them would think to search him, especially since the hospital already had—albeit badly. With that in mind, Robin reached down carefully, easing his backpack free and slipping it under the blanket with himself. He glanced out the window; it was only six p.m., but the sky was already darkening.

In the hospital lobby, Thor and Natasha waited quietly. Both of them were bored out of their minds, something that Natasha hid better than her Asgardian friend. Neither had expected the exorbitant amount of paperwork Steve would have to fill out, though, to be fair, neither had Steve, or he would have warned them. Hiding his annoyance and growing irritation behind another forced smile, he handed the papers back to the lady behind the desk and sighed quietly in relief when she said that that was the last of it. Behind him, Thor and Black Widow stood.

"Finally," Thor grumbled. "Are all Midgardian medical faculties this inefficient?"

"Most of them," Natasha told him.

Together they trailed after a nurse. She was chattering and beaming at them in turns (mostly at Captain America), but they were only half-listening.

She stopped abruptly and gestured towards a half-opened door. "He's in there," she averred, smiling. "I think Dr. Madalon should still be with him." She stood back to admit them, and turned back to the front desk.

Black Widow entered first, so silently that Dr. Madalon yelped when he noticed her. But there was no reaction from the boy lying still on the gurney behind him.

John had black hair. That was the first thing she noticed about him. And it was _really_ black, too, not just brunette. His face was tilted away, his features still and peaceful. His body (small and compact) was covered with a thin, blue hospital blanket, over which his arms lay loose at his sides.

"He's asleep," she said quietly to Steve and Thor as they entered.

"You did not mention how…small he is," Thor sounded almost disappointed, but there was a touch of alarm in his voice. Natasha knew that he had not expected Jonathon to be as young (and thus, vulnerable) as he was.

Steve had been talking to the doctor. Now he turned to them, struggling—mostly unsuccessfully—to hide his aggravation. "One of us is going to have to go with him in the ambulance," he said. Natasha understood his irritation to mean that the doctor wasn't going to let them take John in their car and skip the whole hospital escort thing.

"I'll go," Natasha volunteered, quickly. Even after a few months on 'Midgard', Thor still didn't understand much of their culture, and she wasn't sure he could be trusted to behave in something as visually stimulating as an ambulance. With their luck, he'd probably end up breaking something—most likely the whole van. Steve would be the best choice, really, since he had already met John, but Natasha's S.H.I.E.L.D. training was screaming at her to assess, and, if necessary, neutralize the possible threat (young as he may be) before he was admitted to the Avengers Tower.

No one argued, and so, forty five minutes later (seriously, could the hospital have gone any _slower?_ Even Captain America—Mr. Manners himself—had looked ready to hit somebody), Natasha found herself in the back of a medical transport vehicle (also known as an ambulance), watching Johnathon's gurney get secured. Jonathon was still asleep, mostly owing to Thor growling at the medical personal ('By all the gods, be _quiet _and let him sleep. An ice giant makes less noise than you,') to shut up.

Because they were well-known, respected heroes, the hospital hadn't seen a need to post any of their own personnel in the back with her, though one of their own drivers would be in the front seat. Steve and Thor would be leading the way in Steve's car.

She had been hoping the kid would stay asleep at least until they got to the tower, but as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, he stirred and opened his eyes. Despite herself, Natasha couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. His eyes were incredible. They were slightly angled, with the exotic look of something from across the seas. Just from the shape, she'd have guessed the irises to be a deep brown, but they were striking, dark blue instead. And unless she was (not likely) missing something, they were completely natural. If he was wearing contacts, she couldn't see them.

John pushed himself up a little and looked around in confusion. He hadn't spotted Natasha yet, hidden as she was behind him and in the shadows. "…Bruce?" he said, uncertainty and trepidation thick in his voice. She watched him start to sit up, undoing or loosening the already lax straps tying him down.

"Sorry kid," she said, and she had to give him credit for not jumping or flinching at all like most people would. He turned to focus on her; she took a step into the light to make it easier. "It's just me."

There was, she thought, an unnecessarily long pause before John spoke. "Black Widow?" he asked, and she nodded.

"The one and only. You wanna tell me who Bruce is?"

He blinked up at her once or twice and didn't answer, instead shrinking away and looking down at the blanket draped across his legs.

She watched him for a moment, noting the way he had accepted her presence without question, as if it were perfectly natural, and didn't seem to be afraid or wary of her. But, he still refused to meet her eyes and his shoulders were tense. Steve hadn't mentioned whether or not the kid had known beforehand that he was going to be staying at the Avengers Tower, but judging from Jonathon's behavior, he had. And yet…the kid didn't seem to care about it, one way or another. He'd only just woken up, but already she could see that he wasn't excited about it—as she imagined most people would be—but wasn't _guilty, _either. Usually the only reason people weren't happy to visit with their heroes was if they were criminals or had a guilty conscience, neither of which applied to this kid.

Steve was right. This kid was strange.

"Were you hoping for the Hulk, or someone else?" she frowned when he didn't immediately answer her. "Hey, kid, talk to me."

"Someone else," he admitted. He paused, then added, so low she had to strain to hear it, "No one important. Just a…friend of mine."

"A friend, huh?" she studied him, unconvinced. "B.S. He your Dad or something?"

That got a reaction. Jonathon's head came up and his mouth opened indignantly, but he caught himself and looked down again before he could say anything. He shrugged.

Natasha was briefly reminded of herself at that age, and scowled. "Hey," she said impulsively, "Have you ever met anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. before?"

"Shield?" Jonathon asked, and met her eyes. She could see honest curiosity in his expression, which unnerved her, just a little. Who in New York didn't know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was? "No. What's that?"…this kid, apparently. Natasha didn't answer him immediately, busy as she was scrutinizing the minute shifts and changes in his body language. When she was satisfied that he was telling the truth, and (somehow) did not know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was (seriously, how could be not know? Was he new to America or something? Lived underneath a rock his whole life?) she looked at him and smiled, though that was more to cover her rapidly moving thoughts than anything else.

"It's an organization dedicated to the safety and protection of American citizens."

John thought about this. "So…do the Avengers work for S.H.I.E.L.D.? And SHIELD is an acronym, right? What does it stand for?"

"Yes, we do," Natasha told him, choosing not to mention that while it was officially true, Tony could and often did defy S.H.I.E.L.D. if it suited his own purposes. "S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

John considered that. Glancing out the back windows, Natasha saw that they were only a few streets away from the Tower. "Almost there, kid," she informed him. He straightened just a little bit to better see outside the van, looking suddenly nervous. Natasha watched him from the corner of her eye as he took several deep breaths, discreetly calming himself down. She had just met this kid, but something about him seemed familiar. She couldn't help but like him. Suddenly, Natasha found herself hoping that Steve was wrong—about the scars, about everything. A kid like this shouldn't have secrets.

But no matter what _should be_, it didn't change what _was, _and she knew that whatever he had been trained for, and he _had_ been trained (he held himself with too much confidence, his every movement was just too deliberate, for him not have been), he was holding back something big. Years of intense training had instilled in her a sort of intuition when it came to things like this, and she could tell—she just _knew_—that his secrets, whatever they were, were dark. Some of them were probably dangerous. _Tell-and-somebody-will-die_ kind of dangerous.

The sort of secrets that she herself had plenty of.

The ambulance pulled to a halt, and Natasha opened the back doors. "Welcome to the Avengers Tower," she murmured. "Your new, if only temporary, home."

Steve's car slid past them and parked. Natasha was already starting to maneuver John out of the ambulance. Their driver hurried to join her, and together they set his gurney down just as Thor and Steve strode up.

"Greetings, young one!" Thor exclaimed the moment he saw that John was awake. "I am Thor Odinsson. Pray, what is thy name?"

It was a full three seconds before John responded, startled as he was both by Thor's strange way of speaking and exuberant demeanor. Natasha hid a smile. She had the same the reaction the first time she met her Asgardian teammate.

"…Jonathon, but you can call me John," he answered finally.

"So how should we do this…" Steve considered. "I think we actually have to take you inside before we can get you off that gurney."

With the help of the ambulance driver, Steve wheeled Jonathon inside and started undoing the straps. John brushed away his help and slipped nimbly out to land neatly on the floor. Natasha noticed him quietly slide on a backpack that he must have been concealing under the blanket. She raised one eyebrow almost admiringly. This kid was good.

"Alright, it's pretty late, so I'm just show you to your room, and then you can see some more of the Tower tomorrow," Steve whispered. He hadn't noticed John first slip on the backpack, but as he led him down the hallway Black Widow saw him catch sight of it and frown. He didn't say anything however, and she and Thor left for their own rooms a moment later.

"Mr. Fury, sir? The results have just come in. It doesn't look like Hydra."

"What about the other possibilities I mentioned?"

"No, sir. Negative on all counts."

"Then what _is_ it?"

"We…don't know, sir. The closest approximation to what we're seeing is Morgan le Fay's abilities, but even those don't completely match."

"…"

"Sir?"

"Send me everything you've got. And then…call the Avengers. Tell them…tell them we may have an emergency."

"Yes, sir."

**A.N. Sorry for the shortness; hopefully the next chapter will make up for it. And yes, Robin was awake and then suddenly fell asleep without explanation. That was not a continuity glitch; that was on purpose and shall be explained either in the next chapter or the one after.**

**This is not actually a Robin-centric fic; in the next few chapters we'll start focusing more on his teammates. Starting with Superboy. :) Although, I must admit that Robin is my favorite, so we're gonna be lingering on him for a bit….Also, in answer to one of the reviews, yes the two universes—Marvel and DC—will remain separate.**

**I am hoping I shall not disappoint any of you…so far, all the reviews have been so kind, I'm honestly kind of scared of messing something up. X( But I shall do my best. I have big plans for this fic…**

**I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, and I will endeavor to update again soon.**


	4. Dimensional Theories

**A.N. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE AMAZING REVIEWS! :D I read them all and I love them and you guys/girls are my motivation and ohmyword nine reviews already, are you kidding me? X3 Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

**Chapter Four: Dimensional Theories**

The next morning, Tony strolled into the Tower, humming. The previous day's mission (convince Pepper to let a total stranger into one of the most secure buildings in existence) had been a success. Furthermore, he had stolen two kisses before his departure, and was feeling quite pleased with himself.

He strode into the kitchen, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl as he passed. Bruce was already there, starting on his toast.

"So," Tony grinned, "Where's our new teammate?"

"Team—?" Bruce almost choked on his bread. Tony pounded his back, laughing.

"Nah, just messing with you. Where's our little—what should I call him? Our ward? Whatever. Where is he?"

"Not up yet," Steve said from behind them as he entered the kitchen. "We got in pretty late last night."

"Ah," Tony nodded. "Right."

"Sir?" J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice clicked on. Tony spun casually to face the nearest voice box.

"Yeah?"

"Director Fury wishes to speak with the Avengers. He says it is quite urgent and requests your immediate presence in the Helicarrier."

Tony snorted. "Figures. 'Urgent,' yeah, okay. What do you think?" This last part he directed to his two teammates, who were watching him silently.

"I'll get Thor, and the others," Steve offered. "We can meet downstairs."

"Nah, no need," Tony waved it off. "J.A.R.V.I.S. can tell them. But, what should we do with the kid? He's, what, twelve? Way too young to be left alone."

Bruce looked at Tony askance, surprised by this uncharacteristic show of thoughtfulness. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had known that Tony's sole concern was not for Jonathon but for his own unattended projects. Most children Tony had had contact with didn't know when to keep their hands to themselves.

"Call Pepper," Steve suggested. "He shouldn't give her any trouble."

"I knew there was a reason we're friends," Tony beamed, sliding his phone out of his jeans. "Now let's get going before Mr. Grumpy-Pants Fury decides to come looking for us."

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In the semi-darkness of her room, Natasha studied the backpack critically. It was worn but sturdy, of a generic brown color. The straps were interesting; initially appearing strong yet simplistic, they had hard-to-see alterations made so that they could be adjusted to fit a toddler or a mammoth. _Clever design,_ she thought, fingering the material. It took her a moment to figure out how to open it, and she noted several places where the thickness of the fabric seemed inconsistent with the rest. _Hidden compartments…?_ Carefully, she lifted out a pair of neatly folded pants. They looked to be form-fitting and, she immediately noticed, reinforced with Kevlar. She held them up contemplatively and conjured up a picture of John in her mind's eye. Yes…these would fit him perfectly. Had to be tailor-made.

But for what purpose?

The coloring…black with the red portions on his outer thighs…was very deliberate. Steve had mentioned a Kevlar shirt, she remembered. A whole outfit…? _Why?_

Reaching deeper, she procured next a long, flowing rectangle of cloth—also weighted with Kevlar—colored black on one side and a deep yellow on the other. She examined it, curiously, trying to work out what it was. Her hand slid down slowly and caught on a clasp. She tilted her head and rearranged the thing in her hands until she could see what it was; a cape.

Rich kid playing at…what? Being a hero? But the Kevlar….The most famous heroes either didn't use Kevlar, or it wasn't ever talked about. Not because it was a secret, just because…she didn't know. It was one of those things that, when pointed out, seemed perfectly obvious, but people didn't really consider it on their own.

Somebody had put a lot of thought into this. Practical thought.

Could they—he—be serious? But, this sort of thing took money; Steve said this kid had no records.

But then, Steve didn't have the resources she did.

Before she could continue her inspection, there was a slight crackle of static, and J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice came online.

"Ms. Black Widow, your presence is requested by Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. Please rendezvous downstairs with your teammates and then proceed to the helicarrier."

She'd have to finish this later. She really should have done it earlier, but instead she had gone to visit Clint (he was doing much better) first. And then she'd received some files to look over, and then she had to sleep and…

Anyway. She could finish this later.

Natasha replaced everything with meticulous care, making sure that it was exactly as before, then closed and fastened the backpack. She was already in her Black Widow outfit, so she just needed to put the bag back where she found it without the kid waking up.

Though seeing the kind of gas she'd flooded his room with earlier, she was fairly certain he wouldn't wake up for several more hours yet.

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"I can't believe he wasn't going to tell us."

"Well, technically it _is_ our fault to begin with…"

"No it wasn't! We had—we didn't—we didn't know."

Superboy watched Kid's head drop as he curved in on himself in misery. Not that he was the only one. A heavy gloom had settled over them all after Batman's dismissal. Everyone blamed themselves and each other (mostly themselves), and everyone was miserable. Aqualad must have really been upset, because he didn't seem to have the energy to argue.

The only reason they knew what the League had surmised about Robin's disappearance was because Ms. Martian skimmed the mind of Zatara when he dropped in to talk to Canary. Normally, somebody might have said something about privacy, but they were all too depressed to care.

"Kid's right," Artemis muttered. "We _didn't_ know. We were all being controlled. But another dimension…_dang._" She exhaled in an irritated huff, but her lips were trembling. "He's our teammate. He's our _friend_. We have the right to know if he's not even in this universe anymore."

She fell silent when they heard footsteps. Zatara and Red Tornado walked past serenely, seemingly without even noticing the team staring at them. The moment they were out of earshot, Aqualad leaned in.

"Look," he said quietly. There was a steady, dangerous light in his eyes. "What exactly happened, I'm not sure. But here's what we know.

"The fight in Gotham was staged, presumably to distract and immobilize us until the spell was complete.

"Robin was not meant to go through that portal when he did. He upset the enchantment and now no one knows where he is, except that he's in a different dimension.

"And we know the names of a few of the spell casters. Such as Klarion. We can find him, and the others. And then—"

"And then we take them down!" Kid Flash's eyes were shining. The others, too, were looking much more hopeful than before.

"Precisely." Aqualad's smile was grim.

Superboy grinned and started to ask what they were waiting for, but stopped when he felt something shift in the air around him. He raised his head curiously. He felt strange, like he was being coated in rubber. Everything was blurred. Then there was a sudden pressure—he couldn't move—something gave way—and then the warmth of the cave was abruptly gone.

Superboy blinked.

He was in the middle of a rooftop. Cold wind buffeted him from all directions, and he could hear voices and cars below. He was in an unfamiliar city approximately the size of Metropolis, but louder and with more pollution.

Bemused and a little bit in shock, he moved to the edge and looked down.

The link—what faint, automatic trace of it that usually lingered in his mind—was gone. He couldn't feel M'gann's presence inside his head anymore.

He studied the ground.

The layout of the street reminded him of Metropolis, or maybe Star City. The people hurried from building to building or into their cars. No one looked at anyone else. Nobody looked up, either.

He stepped back, bemused. How had this happened? He'd been with his team…and then…he hadn't. Superboy shivered, then frowned. He was…cold? But he never got cold.

Connor stood in puzzled confusion for a few more seconds, then fisted his hands and growled softly. He hated not knowing what was going on. He hated being lost. And he _hated_ not knowing what to do about it.

Something hit his arm lightly. Then the back of his neck. His shoulder. He touched the fabric; it was wet.

Superboy tilted his face back. Thunder rumbled distantly. More raindrops landed on his upraised face. He closed his eyes out of reflex.

A storm. Normally he would ignore it. But then, normally it wouldn't bother him.

In a strange way, he was sort of glad, because now he had something to do; get inside. Preferably someplace warm.

It was then, as he was looking around for a way down, that something clicked. _We have the right to know if he's not even in this universe anymore…_Artemis' words drifted across his memory, and he started. _No way_. But why not?

He looked around again, this time with more urgency. The buildings…the symbols…he hadn't been everywhere in the world, not even close, but he wasn't exactly a country bumpkin, either. And he had never seen those designs before. Granted, that didn't necessarily mean anything, but coupled with his rather odd arrival and what had happened to Robin less than a day ago…

Connor exhaled. He felt stunned. But now there was only one question; was he in the same dimension as Robin, or somewhere different? He closed his eyes again on an impulse and listened as intently as he could for Robin's heartbeat. It was insanity, in a city as large as this…maybe Superman could manage, but he…

His eyes flew open. There! It was gone now, but just for a second he could have sworn….He tried again, his own heart thudding in excitement. But the rain was coming down harder, and there were too many people, and no…he couldn't find it. _But,_ he thought, _maybe if I go somewhere a little quieter (and warmer) and try again…?_

There was no way off the rooftop that he could see but one. It would be a bit loud, of course, but it wasn't like he would die. With his invulnerability, he could have been twice as high and he still wouldn't die.

Connor braced himself, and jumped.

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"Good morning, Ms. Watson! What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Steve. Love your hat. Let's see…I think I would like hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a blueberry muffin if you have any."

"Saved one just for you, Ms. Watson. Just a minute…"

Mary Jane smiled as he turned away. Her long auburn hair was done up with pins today and shone softly in the lighting of the café. She moved her umbrella so it wouldn't drip on her purse and glanced outside. She had always rather liked the rain, and she was looking forward to listening to the steady rhythm while she ate her favorite breakfast. According to her watch, she had an hour until her date with Peter at the museum…her smile grew at the thought and she blushed faintly.

"Here you are, Miss!"

Mary Jane looked up at Steve in gratitude, but before she could say anything the whole building shook and the hot chocolate tipped over into her lap.

Her screams were echoed the next street over—the source of the boom.

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"What was that?" Tony slowed, frowning. He'd thought he heard…

"What?" Bruce asked, hazel eyes curious.

"…nothing." Tony decided, after a pause. "Must have imagined it."

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Superboy grinned. Perfect landing. He noticed a bystander gaping at him, and his eyes narrowed. "What are you looking at?" he asked rudely.

The staring, quivering man he'd addressed didn't answer, only slid down silently until he sat down with a thump on the pavement.

Eh. Whatever. Superboy shrugged mentally and strode off, unconcerned.

By the time the first police car showed up at the edge of the crater, he was already gone. "Erm…sir," A puzzled cop studied the ground. His superior officer glanced over and gestured at him to go on. "The hulk _is_ still with the Avengers, right?"

The captain considered this. His hand drifted to his radio. "No harm in asking, anyway."

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"But here's what we know."

Aqualad worked hard at making eye contact as he talked, drawing his teammates in and connecting with them. He hated seeing that empty, lost look to them, and the hopelessness in their gazes. Action was better. Just so long as they had something to do—a goal, a purpose—he figured that they'd be fine. As team leader, it was his responsibility to make sure they were alright.

"We can find him, and the others. And then—"

"And then we take them down!" Kid Flash's interruption was welcome. Aqualad could see his normal spirit returning to him, and had to restrain his relief.

"Precisely."

Superboy, who had been listening quietly, stirred and looked up. Something odd happened, then; a breath of freezing cold air swirled through the air like fog, obscuring their vision for two long heartbeats. Aqualad heard Zatara cry out in the distance, then—so fast he felt dazed—everything snapped back into definition. And Superboy was gone.

M'gann was the first to react.

"Connor!" she lunged for the space he had just occupied, looking around frantically as if to catch sight of him. "Connor!"

Aqualad was in shock. From the expressions on Wally and Artemis' faces, so were they. He realized his mouth was open, and closed it. He tried to say M'gann's name, but it stuck in his throat. He swallowed, and tried again.

"M'ga—"

Zatara burst into the room, followed closely by Red Tornado and Black Canary. "What just happened in here?" he demanded, scanning the room in much the same way M'gann had scant seconds before. "I felt magic—a strong surge of magic!"

Red Tornado surveyed them all slowly, his mechanical eyes missing nothing. "Where is the Superboy?"

The team exchanged glances. Aqualad thought he should answer, but before he could, Artemis did.

"Gone," she told them. "He just vanished." She pointed to where Ms. Martian was. "He was right there, and then this fog filled the room…" she related what had happened as Red Tornado and Black Canary listened attentively. Zatara, on the other hand, hardly seemed to hear her. He was pacing, muttering rapidly to himself.

"And then everything just stopped," Artemis concluded. Zatara, looking more excited than any of them had ever seen him, snapped open his commlink and spoke quickly into it.

"Batman. Batman, are you there? This is Zatara. Batman? Yes—it's important—listen! If I'm right, and I believe I am, then I have wonderful news. I still need to do a few things to be absolutely certain, but I think we have a way to track Robin!"

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Pepper entered Avengers Tower completely soaked. She cursed under her breath as she wrung out her skirt and peeled off her sweater.

"Ms. Potts,"

"Hey J.A.R.V.I.S.," Pepper cut him off. "Could you raise the temperature in here about ten degrees? Please?"

A pause. Then hot air began issuing from the vents. Pepper smiled.

"Thanks a ton."

"You are welcome, Ms. Potts." J.A.R.V.I.S. said calmly. "How else may I be of assistance at this time?"

Pepper considered. "Well, Tony asked me to come babysit some kid. John, I think his name is? Anyway, I _think _he told me the kid's room number, but I can't remember if it's twenty-three B, or twenty-four B."

"I believe Mr. Wayne is residing in room twenty-four B. His vitals are steady. Air is safe to breathe. Besides you, he is the only other person currently in the tower. Anything else?"

Pepper had mostly stopped listening after the first part, but for a moment she hesitated. Did J.A.R.V.I.S. just say something about the air…? She hesitated, than mentally shrugged, dismissing it.

"Nope, thank you J.A.R.V.I.S.!" she said, dropping her purse on the kitchen table as she passed through. She rather liked children, and was looking forward to meeting this one.

**A.N. So I debated ending it here or adding something else, but I decided to be evil and save it for the next chapter. ^.^ Now, mostly I prefer letting the story speak for itself, but I do want to clarify a few things. No, this will not all lead to a lame reveal of Robin's identity. That is not the purpose of this fic. And no, I do not intend to make either the Avengers or the Young Justice team unrealistically amazing 'n stuff. I hate it when authors do that—I mean, they're cool characters, but they have their limits. Nobody on either team is going to be rendered completely inept and useless because, well…they're not.**

**And for CYBER ORTECK…really hope you see this…the K.F.-centric chapter is coming. Be patient. ;) I have no problem with you asking, because he really is such a fun character and I like him a lot. :D Actually, unless you have any objections, I'm thinking of dedicating that chapter to you. Let me know~!**

**NEXT CHAPTER: The Avengers meet with Nick Fury, things are discovered and discussed, and then they are all unceremoniously interrupted when reports of a strange boy with incredible strength start coming in…**


	5. A Boy Named Connor

**A.N. Kawaii, so many kind reviews! / **_**Merci! **_**Vous** **êtes très sympa~ !**

**Disclaimer: Really? I already said it (four times -.-), don't make me say it again…**

**Chapter Five: A Boy Named Connor**

Robin had a headache. Strange. He never had headaches.

He opened his eyes to blessed darkness. It was usually dark when he woke, just because of how early he got up (except when patrol went long enough that he was allowed to sleep in—but that almost never happened—or on the weekends), and the small sense of normalcy it provided was welcomed.

It was as he was sliding out of bed that he remembered that the room he had been given had no windows. Which didn't really have to mean anything, but it made him pause. Something felt…o_ff_. He considered it for a few seconds, then reached a decision and conjured up a mental picture of the room's layout. He walked to the bathroom with his eyes shut.

His memory was, as usual, impeccable; there was a clock hanging on the wall next to the mirror. It was nine-thirty in the morning.

Robin blinked, and looked again. It still said nine-thirty. No. Nine thirty-one. It took him a moment, but then it clicked. The headache, the extra sleep—he'd been drugged. But why?

He turned all the lights on and searched the room for cameras. He found four, but none of them seemed to have been used in quite some time. He deactivated them anyway. Next he searched himself, looking for odd bruises (especially in the crooks of his elbows), cuts, or anything else suspicious.

He found nothing.

Next; his belongings, such as they were. Really he only had the backpack.

And jackpot. It'd been searched. Very carefully; he _almost_ couldn't tell it'd been touched at all. But he knew he wasn't wrong.

So. Somebody infiltrated the tower—no, that didn't make sense. From what he'd seen, it wouldn't be impossible, but it'd be pretty darn hard. And, at least as far as he knew, nobody in this universe knew who he was; thus, there wasn't anybody who would want to break in, and especially not just to search his backpack. No, it was much more likely that this was the work of one of the Avengers themselves.

Robin realized that he'd underestimated them. It wouldn't happen again.

He didn't know any of them well enough to try to guess who had done it with any real accuracy. But that didn't matter much. Ultimately, the real questions were; how much did they find, what conclusion did they reach, and who, if anyone, did they tell?

—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE— BREAKLINE—

"What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I am! I'm telling you, he's—no—hold on a second," Pepper's forehead creased in annoyance. "Look, I can double check for you, but—okay, fine. Fine! J.A.R.V.I.S., put this call on hold please, and connect me to Tony Stark."

"Phone call on hold. Connecting you now."

A beep, then;

"Pepper? Everything okay? We were about to start the meeting,"

"Tony, is Bruce there?"

A pause. She waited impatiently.

"Um. Yeah. He's right next to me. Pepper—"

"Perfect, thanks," she interrupted him before he could finish. "Sorry to bother you. Talk to you later. J.A.R.V.I.S., end call."

"Call to: Tony Stark. Ended."

"Thank you. Put the police back on."

Static. Then, muffled; "Ms. Potts?"

"Yes. I'm back. The hulk is currently accounted for. Whatever or whoever you're having difficulty with, it isn't him." She didn't wait to hear his response. "J.A.R.V.I.S., disconnect."

"Disconnected. Is there anything else you require at this time?"

Pepper sighed, but nodded. "Is the kid up yet?"

"Sensory data indicates a positive answer."

"Perfect." She'd checked on him earlier, and had been disappointed to find him still asleep. "Tell him that there should be clothes in the dresser, if he hasn't already found them, and then send him to the kitchen when he's ready."

"Affirmative. Which one?"

"Third floor."

"He is on his way now."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "Well, that was fast."

—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE— BREAKLINE—

"What was that all about?" Clint wanted to know. Tony looked at him; clean-shaven and clean, Hawkeye was the picture of alertness. If Tony didn't know better, he would never have thought that this same man had been wasted on medication less than twelve hours previously.

"Nothing important," Tony told him. The truth was that he really had no idea, but there was no way he was ever going to admit that.

"Then can we begin?" Nick Fury was not in a good mood today, Tony noticed. But then, was he ever? "Yesterday afternoon at three twenty-three precisely, our sensors detected a huge power surge centered around, and seemingly emanating from, downtown New York."

"What kind of power?" This from Black Widow. Her face was typically blank of anything except professional concern, but Tony thought he detected a twinge of urgency in the way she almost imperceptively leaned forward.

"That's just it. We aren't sure."

Tony almost choked. Did Fury—_Nick Fury_—just admit to not knowing something?

"Get that look off your face, Stark." Fury snapped at him.

"Touchy, touchy…" Tony muttered, but obeyed.

"The closest approximation is what we have so far observed of Morgan le Fay's…magic…but tainted with something else we've never encountered."

"What were the aftereffects? Were there any?" How Hawkeye managed to look so serious while dressed in pink and purple, Tony had no idea.

"Yes. Odd things, here and there, spread out over the next several hours. As far as we can tell, it was observable mainly in small ways—a car changing color for an hour, then changing back. Some people become suddenly sick. Several comatose patients woke up for the first time in years. Other people fell asleep, though they all woke up again within an hour or two at the most. Electronics were also affected; your tower was. We—"

Tony's head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. "I knew it!" He hadn't, but it explained a lot; the odd, sudden 'glitch' in his systems that day, the lack of any discernible cause… "Told J.A.R.V.I.S. I didn't make a mistake," he said, mostly to himself. And then, again; "I _knew _it."

"Yes…" Director Fury looked less than please at his outburst. "The power was not, as far as we can tell, malevolent, though its catalyst and purpose are still unknown. The side-effects seem to have been random and scattered; no clues there. However—"

"Sir!" A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent burst into the room. Fury was less than pleased to have been interrupted twice in as many minutes, but he let it pass.

"What is it?"

"A second power surge has been detected. Exactly like the one from yesterday!"

With an oath, Director Fury was on his feet. The Avengers, taking their cue from him, also stood. Tony cast a quick, cautious glance at Dr. Banner, but he didn't appear angry, only puzzled.

"Just now?" Fury demanded sharply.

"N-no sir." Interesting, Tony thought. He didn't think he'd heard a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stutter before. It was good to know that they were human. "It was about ten minutes ago now—"

Fury looked ready to strangle someone. "Why wasn't I informed immediately?"

"The computers—we had some technical difficulties, which we believe were caused by the event in question—and we had to be sure. You said this meeting was important—"

"And to notify me if there were any new developments," Fury growled. They were all in the hallway now, moving quickly towards the command center.

"Is there a problem? You said that the power was not malevolent. Or did I mishear?"

"No, Thor, you did not. But I also said that we weren't sure."

"Sir!" A second agent brushed past Captain America.

"What now?" Fury didn't stop, and the agent had to jog to keep up.

"There are reports coming in of a possible meta; he appears to be a teenager, though the pictures are grainy, with strength like the hulk."

"But not green-skinned?" Bruce blurted. The agent barely glanced at him and didn't answer.

"Not green-skinned?" Fury repeated.

"No, sir. Black-haired, caucasian."

They strode into the command center, and Fury immediately started barking orders. In the rush of noise of people, Tony couldn't hear all of what was being said, but he heard enough to gather that reports were still coming in, the last known location of the super-powered kid was the football stadium (which was now being searched). It sounded like the boy had just appeared, falling from the sky several minutes after the power spiked and the helicarrier started glitching. Super-kid* had walked away after that and mingled with people a few streets over. He would have gotten away, but a description of him was obtained and played on every news channel and he was spotted within seconds. Since then, he'd been on the run, occasionally moving cars or leaping a bridge to escape his pursuers. That was how he had been driven into the stadium, and he hadn't been seen since.

Tony listened carefully to all of this, but one thing in particular stood out to him.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me this guy just _fell_? From the _sky_?"

"Yes. Don't make me say it again." Fury grunted.

"Wait—but—" Fury had already walked off. Tony turned to Bruce instead and finished his thought in a hushed whisper. "_Teleportation?_"

Bruce considered. "Well, it's not like he fell off the helicarrier, so I'd say it was a definite possibility."

Clint, who had been listening in silence to their conversation, stepped forward. "But if that's how he got up there, we still need to figure out exactly how it worked, seeing as not even you can teleport, Stark—"

"Yet!" Tony's protest was ignored.

"—and we need to find out _why_."

"Without more information," Bruce said after some thought, "We really have no way to know."

"Perhaps he is from one of the other realms. Asgard, for example, possesses magical beings with great power."

"Can people on Asgard teleport, then?" Tony was curious.

"Loki can."

"Perfect," Clint said lowly. "Just perfect."

None of them were pleased by this new revelation, but they didn't have time to dwell on it. Fury was moving back towards them, and he didn't look happy.

"Get ready. You're going in."

—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE—BREAKLINE— BREAKLINE—

"So you see, it was what we call a steady malfunction," Zatara explained. "The spell was knocked off-kilter, and it stuck like that. It's clear that it was always meant to affect the entire team, and I believe that in that regard it succeeded. However, the timing—when it came into full effect—was randomized, and it's looking like it's different for each one of you. Robin first; then Superboy, hours after. Also, their ultimate destinations were different, if I'm seeing this right—it is likely they were both sent to the same dimension, the same world, even, but almost certainly they are in different states, or even different countries.*"

"Which will make retrieval difficult," Black Canary commented. "But not impossible."

"Yes. And now we have a way to find them." He turned to what was left of the Young Justice team with a small smile. "You."

"Whoa, hey, hold up there." Kid Flash made a 'time out' signal with his hands. "What do you mean…us?"

"You were all hit with the spell. I could not recognize it before because I was not looking; but when I felt Superboy's departure, I felt the magic flare in all of you, as well. You will all follow, in your own time."

"You're kidding." Artemis looked like she didn't know whether to be happy or horrified. She settled for 'disturbed'.

"Zatara." Batman was inscrutable, as always. "The plan.

"No, Artemis, I am not. And…yes. The plan. I have already tagged you all with my magic. Where you go, I will be able to follow. I will stay with you all until someone else is pulled through. Then I shall know for certain if I have done it right, and I—along with some other members of the Justice League who have already volunteered their services—" everyone carefully avoided looking at Batman. "will go after you, find everyone, and bring you back. We may have to go more than once as the rest of you are pulled in, but there is no reason why any of you should be in that world for more than a few minutes."

"This is a relief," Aqualad said, and meant it. "However, we still need to discover what the original plan was, and who was involved, correct?"

"Correct." Batman's voice was actually a shade darker than usual. The reason for this became clear with his next sentence; "Other members of the League are already investigating. But right now, that is not your concern. You will all help us find the other dimension by _staying here. _Understood?"

They wanted to argue. If Robin had been there, he almost certainly would have. But they were not Robin, and none of them dared speak up while Batman was glaring at them like that.

"Understood."

***Sorry, couldn't resist X3**

***Clearly Zatara is only partially right…that is because he is still in the preliminary stages of figuring this whole mess out. In my headcanon, spells that go wrong are highly unpredictable, and it's difficult to find out as much as Zatara did. This is why Zatara is on the Justice League; he is awesome. However, he does not know everything…**

**A.N. HAPPY NEW YEAR, PEOPLE! I wanted to give y'all a chapter at midnight, but I got sick and actually ended up falling asleep at barely ten o'clock. . But, I do seem to be better now, so yay for that. :)**

**Dang, this chapter was **_**hard.**_** So many characters to keep track of…I'm not sure I managed it very well. Please, please, **_**please**_** tell me if you find anyone out of character. And I'm not happy with the length…but I wanted to get **_**something **_**up today. Oh, and, I'm thinking of bringing Roy in. Opinions? And is it just me, or are my chapter titles completely lame? XP Connor's name wasn't in here once.**

**Thank you. And thank you all for the feedback you've already given. I feel very supported and encouraged. :)**


	6. Possibilities

**Disclaimer: I own the plot. It's a very nice plot. You can't have it.**

**Warning: one bad word. Not too bad. I think you guys can probably handle it. Also, slight Zatara bashing. Nobody take it too seriously, kay?**

**This chapter is dedicated to Cyber Orteck, without whom this would something else entirely; something probably very, very boring. :P As it is...well...you can make your own conclusions. :) I **_**am **_**sorry about the (too copious) non-Wally sections. Still. Hopefully this will satisfy everyone anyway, and he'll have the spotlight a little more in the next chapter.**

**Possibilities**

Mount Justice was silent. But it was not an empty silence, nor was it a comfortable one. The team, minus its two missing members, was sitting sullenly in the common room, doing nothing. Zatara presided over them from the doorway; he was the only one, out of all of them, who looked halfway alert.

Wally sighed heavily for what seemed to him to be the millionth time. He was sooooo bored! And he couldn't believe they were sitting around waiting for one of them to disappear like some stupid sugerplum fairy instead of actually being _useful._

From her place in-between Kid Flash and Aqualad on the couch, Artemis was thinking much the same thing. She didn't like non-action; it gave her way too much time to think, and made her unfocused and angsty.

Artemis wished that she could say something to break the…_nothingness_ that was happening, but she couldn't think of anything. And she didn't like Zatara listening to everything they said.

Wait a minute. Everything they said?

Artemis was both surprised and annoyed at herself for not thinking of it earlier. She reached discreetly behind Aqualad and nudged M'gann. M'gann didn't outwardly react, and for a moment Artemis was afraid she hadn't understood. Then, with what almost felt like a mental _snap_, the mind link was up. Aqualad, who had been staring dully at the floor, straightened in surprise. Kid Flash stirred slightly and looked around at them.

_M'gann?_

He must really be depressed, Artemis thought to herself, with a twinge of what might have been worry. He's not even trying to flirt with her at all.

_Yes, Wally. It's me. _The Martian girl sent back. She still hadn't moved at all. Her quiet sort of depression was almost harder to take than the absence of their friends. Almost.

..._Is everyone here? _Aqualad, ever the responsible leader. But Artemis could tell his heart wasn't in it; at that point, he was just going through the motions.

_Yes._

_No._

Wally rolled his eyes at Artemis. _Yes you are._

Subtly, she stuck out her tongue. _Prove it._

_I don't have to! Just by saying that—thinking it, whatever—you just did!_

_I have no idea _what_ you're going on about._

Kid Flash, eyes wide and mouth agape, just stared at her. Artemis smirked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw M'gann watching them.

_It's not often I see you speechless_, Artemis sent, snobbishly._ Thoughtless, yes, but speechless…?_

Zatara was taken completely by surprise when Kid Flash attacked Artemis. One minute, they'd just been sitting there, looking at each other—the next, he shoved her off the couch!

"Children! What is the meaning of this?" he cried, striding towards them imperiously.

Artemis and Wally exchanged glances, then simultaneously swept Zatara's legs out from under him with a well-aimed kick. By then, M'gann was stifling laughter and Aqualad was trying, and failing, to hide a smile. Artemis sat up and high-fived KF; mission accomplished.

Zatara was not amused. "If this is how you repay—"

"Aw, no harm done!" Wally said brightly, standing up. He offered a hand to the downed magician, which was accepted, albeit with some grumbling. "We were just playing!"

Zatara looked at their (faked, but he didn't know that) apologetic faces and the life in M'gann and Aqualad's expressions, and his features softened ever-so-slightly. "I would at least ask an explanation. No matter your intent, understand that that was not an acceptable—"

"We're sorry!" They chorused, a little too quickly.

Zatara sighed in annoyance. "Why—" he started, then stopped. He was staring at them oddly.

Kid Flash had offered his hand to Artemis while Zatara was talking and helped her up. But before either of them could let go, the air stilled, and thickened. There was a sound like thunder and a feeling like lightning stabbed Artemis' exposed midriff. She doubled over, choking, but she moved slowly, like she was underwater, and everything was blurred, and she couldn't see Kid Flash, but she couldn't let go of his hand, and they were spinning, and she heard muffled voices that spiked with urgency and then dropped away, and she couldn't breathe, she was so cold, and then Kid Flash was ripped away from her and she fell.

Kid Flash knew as soon as everything slowed, then skipped in that sickeningly strange way what was happening. He couldn't speak, but he tried desperately to let go of Artemis because he knew—he could _feel_ that he was the one being pulled through, and he didn't want to drag her after him, but he didn't seem to have a choice. And then, just as he was thinking it was too late, but at least they were together, she was gone and he was panicking because they hadn't arrived yet and who knew what had happened, or if she was okay.

He appeared with a crack five feet above an open field, and had to think fast to avoid falling on his head. His shin, however, was not as lucky and he examined the long scrape with a wince. Unlike the others, he'd changed into civilian wear out of boredom and because they weren't on a mission, so why not? Belatedly he realized that seeing as he had known he was probably going to be pulled into another dimension, he really should have kept his suit on, but hey. Couldn't do anything about it now, so whatever.

He stood and looked around him warily. There was no sign of Artemis; there was no sign of anything. Just acres and acres of grass. In the distance, he thought he could see a wheat field.

Kid Flash blinked. "Did I just land in Kansas?"

In a city, in another state, there was a flash of light that was dimmer than the sunlight that fell soft across the buildings and the people and so seemed more like a flash of darkness. No one noticed; they were all too busy staring busily at the police cars and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents pouring into the city's one football stadium. The entrance was closed to anyone unauthorized, and the people were all kept at a safe distance. Still, they milled around and refused to leave on the slim chance they might see something interesting. Ironically, if they had only turned around, they would have.

Artemis dropped from the sky limply. She clipped the edge of a building, hitting her head, spun into an alley and landed on a broken sheet of glass. The blow to her head had rendered her unconscious, which was both lucky and unlucky, as she felt none of the pain as the shards pierced her body. But the pool of blood grew underneath her steadily, and there was no one to stop it.

—lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay—

Connor felt a slight pressure in his head, like when he had been pulled through the dimensional barriers, what—twenty, thirty minutes ago? He hesitated, wondering why, but heard voices and had to move quickly to avoid being spotted.

He'd thought he could just slip away and no one would notice. He really hadn't thought it through very well. It was a miracle they didn't have any pictures or videos of him; the cameras had seemed to malfunction for a few minutes, though the T.V.s he saw in the store window only flickered once or twice and were fine. However, his description was everywhere, and everyone seemed to know it by heart and could instantly place him, which was irritating to the extreme. His shirt didn't help; apparently, it was unique here. Wherever 'here' was. This ridiculous city by the water—well, the ocean, judging by the strong smell of salt.

He leaned against the cold concrete wall behind him and sighed. Suddenly, he straightened, frowning. Speaking of smell…wasn't that blood?

"Hey!"

Connor whirled, surprised. Facing him was an android, colored red like Red Tornado but with yellow complements, a much more complicated design, and glowing blue eyes. Its expression was fixed in cold indifference, but Connor thought he saw a threat in the way it moved forward purposefully.

"Are you—"

It didn't get any further than that. Connor jumped, slamming into the robot's midsection and propelling them both down the corridor to the far concrete wall. The android hit the wall with a strangled, almost human-sounding gasp. Connor wasted no time in punching it in the chest. He had meant to punch right through it, but its armor was abnormally hard and obviously meant to withstand huge pressure. Still, he succeeded in ripping out a chunk of red-painted—what sort of metal was this, anyway? Steel? Iron?

The android placed its hand on his chest and a pulse of hot light the same color of its eyes pushed Connor away forcefully. He checked for damage automatically; none, but his shirt was ruined. Again.

Uttering a low, guttural growl, he looked up at the robot.

"Now, wait a minute," it started.

Roaring like an animal, Connor attacked.

—lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay—

Kid Flash didn't know what to do. He'd been walking for a while, looking for Artemis, looking for Superboy, looking for Robin, looking for _anyone_ for the past…how long had it been? He didn't even know. How sad. He'd stopped worrying about what had happened to Artemis mostly by refusing to think about it. His biggest problem was that he was lost and he didn't know where to go. He could run, but which direction? He didn't have much food—two granola bars in his pocket wasn't going to last him very long. So he conserved his energy and wandered through the field of wheat he'd seen earlier.

But he knew he couldn't do this much longer. He had never been known for his patience. Soon he was just going to start running and damn the consequences.

—lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay—

Her name was Pepper Potts; or at least, that was how she'd introduced herself to him. She said that the Avengers were out crime-fighting, so she was here to 'make sure he was okay'.

…to babysit, in other words.

Well, fine. He could handle himself; he was thirteen years old and he didn't need help. He suspected they knew that. They just didn't care. She wasn't there to take care of him; she was there to spy. Or perhaps to stop him spying.

Yeah, good luck with that.

She gave him a careful tour that she said encompassed the whole of the tower but really, really didn't. He took note of which parts she omitted, including several hard-but-not-quite-impossible-to-see-if-you-know-what-you're-looking-for doors. He wondered if Pepper knew everything she was skipping, or if she was actually just ignorant. It could be either, he supposed.

"So how do you know the Avengers?" he made sure to ask it casually, like he was mostly asking out of politeness and not out of a burning desire to know, know everything about her especially every nuance of her connection to the Avengers partially because it might be useful and partially because that was how Batman had trained him to be.

She stopped, then, and glanced at him with confusion and a surprised sort of appraisal. He looked at the training room (too tame to be anything more than a back-up, who did she think she was fooling—oh, right, him) and turned away a little like he wasn't paying attention, like every atom of his being wasn't focused on her.

"…I work with Tony," she told him finally. From her tone he gathered that this was common information. "Tony Stark. Iron Man."

Like he didn't know who Tony was.

"Cool."

"It can be."

He looked at her, then. She was clearly uncomfortable, but trying not to show it. Because of him? He'd realized more or less immediately when they met that he wasn't what she'd expected. _Yeah, well, get used to it lady, _he thought sourly. He wanted to talk to the Avengers. Or hack something to get more information. _Without _supervision.

So much was common knowledge here. Things everyone else knew, things that made Robin stand out because he _didn't_ know. S.H.I.E.L.D., for example, that Widow had told him about and he had managed to look up before he fell asleep the night before. It reminded him of Cadmus, but without the paranoid secrecy. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. was mysterious; but not so much that even their existence was hidden from public view. And then there was Tony Stark, who had told the world he was Iron Man. Why? Sure, it probably made his double life easier…but it also destroyed any mystery the Iron Man persona might have lent him.

Bruce. Not Banner, his Bruce, Bruce Wayne. It was just an idea, but…what would happen if Batman wasn't a secret?

No. Robin pushed the thought from his mind. The criminals of Gotham would hardly be intimidated by _Bruce._ Batman's agenda, his motivations, were most effective shrouded in darkness.

But what if they _weren't?_ The hardest thing about being Robin had always been the secrets. He'd lost friends—so many friends—over it. He'd trained himself not to care, but he was a social creature by nature, and for his sphere of close human interaction to be so small was…agonizing. Worth it, definitely, but still…

What if someday, when he was older, say twenty if he lived that long, he could be a hero _openly? _Like Tony Stark—what if Robin just told people? He'd have to change his name, both hero and otherwise, change his face and past, because Bruce's secret would otherwise also be exposed and that was _so_ not Robin's choice to make. But then…everything would be so much more honest. Robin—well, okay, Robin was a liar. But Richard…Richard never had been.

_I can't think like this,_ Robin realized. _It is what is. Maybe…_maybe_ someday things will be different. But there's no use thinking about it now._

He turned his attention back to Pepper. She was checking her extremely high-tech phone. From the look on her face, he knew it wasn't a text from a friend.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," she said sharply, snapping her cellphone shut and sliding it back into her purse. "Show news station." Ah, yes, J.A.R.V.I.S. Robin remembered Pepper mentioning him.

"Which—" the disembodied voice even with just one word reminded Robin of Alfred.

"Any of them! All of them! It doesn't matter!"

Robin stood back and watched intently. She wasn't flustered, exactly…startled? No. No, definitely not. Worried? Concerned? Those might be closer…

Screens appeared in the air in front of Pepper. Robin had to move to see them. They looked remarkably like the sort the Justice League used, he noticed. Interesting. But more interesting was what they showed.

On one screen, a reporter stood in front of a large stadium with police cars parked in front. In the background, Robin could see a slight shimmer in the air, almost like Wonder Woman's invisible jet. The reporter was talking, but the sound was muted; her words appeared at the top of the screen. At the bottom; _BREAKING NEWS: Super-powered teenager cornered in…_

A super-powered teenager? Robin frowned. There was no reason to think it was anyone he knew, but something about it bothered him.

Another screen had another angle of the same stadium. A different newsgroup, reporting on the same thing. Robin skipped over it.

More and more screens were appearing; J.A.R.V.I.S. seemed to have taken Pepper's request for 'all of them' seriously. They weren't even all New York. Reports from other cities, even other _states_ were showing up. Robin wondered if J.A.R.V.I.S. was a bit defective, because this was definitely not what Pepper had meant. She was too busy concentrating on the closest three (all New York news; all pertaining to the stadium) to say anything, however.

Robin started to glance at the screens, dwelling on each only long enough to determine what it was and if it was important before moving to the next.

The president had adopted a dog. Good for him.

A celebrity arrest. Drug abuse. The reporters seemed almost cruelly delighted about it.

An earthquake in California…no surprise there…minor damage. No fatalities.

A report from New Jersey. Brief blackout was strange because…blah blah blah…

Wait what.

Robin looked back at the New Jersey report, but whatever he'd seen, it was gone now. And had he seen it? He was pretty sure he had.

Just for an instant, a streak in the background—something moving very, very fast.

Kid Flash?

No. No, it couldn't be. He hadn't been in the portal. Only Robin had come through.

But…

He looked back at the first news station. A super-powered teenager. _Superboy._ Robin's breath caught in his chest. Did they all come through, then? His entire team? They must have—they _must_ have. It was the only explanation (he quashed the small, uncannily Batman-esque voice in the back of his mind saying that no, it was _not_ the only explanation, and don't go jumping to conclusions, you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment again).

He wasn't alone.

That was the last thought Richard had before Robin clamped down on his emotions with the force of a sledgehammer. Batman had trained him better than this. Come on, now. Calm down. Think logically. It might be them, it might not be. The question was what to do about it?

—lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay—

Wally only ran through the outskirts of the city when he came to it. And he was more careful about being seen than when he'd been out in the middle of nowhere. Also, he'd been wrong; according to a sign, this was New Jersey, not Kansas. Didn't make much difference to him, really, but it was good to know. He didn't know this area in his world, so he couldn't say if it was different or not. So far everything seemed…well, _normal._ This was a completely different dimension—so why was it so boring?

He slowed, and stopped behind a tree. He needed information. His best bet was either a newspaper or one of those electronic stores that had televisions playing news stations in their front windows. How to find one of those…well, there had to be one _somewhere_ in the city. He'd just have to walk until he found it.

—lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay— lookatmeI'mabreaklineyay—

"They were pulled through so quickly…"

"Yes. So were Superboy and Robin. Did you get a fix on their location?"

"Yes. However, it seems I underestimated the power of the transportation; the spell I put on Kid Flash and Artemis partially disintegrated, so I cannot yet send anyone after them. I put a second, stronger spell on M'gann and Aqualad that should—_will_—work…or I might as well retire as a magician." He muttered the last part under his breath. They both heard him anyway.

"I have faith in you." Black Canary, though worried half out of her mind for the team, managed an encouraging smile.

"Thank you. Now we must choose who will retrieve the children. I myself cannot go, because I must stay here and act as an anchor. We will not be able to communicate, so we must decide on a set time, after which I will recall the rescue team, Kid Flash, Artemis, and whoever any of them are touching—bare skin is best, but even just holding onto someone's sleeve should suffice—back to the mountain. I will not recall everyone immediately, so I will retain an anchor by which I may send people back through again if not everyone has been located. Only when everyone has returned will I sever the spell."

"Batman, you already made a list of who's going, right?" Black Canary's tone was friendly and curious, but her eyes promised immediate and excruciating agony if she was not included.

Batman was unimpressed by her glare. He gave her a _look_. "Me."

"Just you?" Zatara was confused. Good thing, too; if he hadn't spoken before Dinah could, there probably would have been a short yet violent fight. "It is not as if half the league hasn't already volunteered. Flash, for example, has been particularly insistent. Why would you not take advantage of such resources?"

_I work alone,_ Batman thinks, but does not say. Because he doesn't work alone, not anymore, and it feels wrong and unnatural to patrol the dark alleys of Gotham without his partner and protégé by his side. And, yes, he's commanded the league enough times to be semi-comfortable with it under normal circumstances. But this was not normal circumstances, because Robin wasn't waiting for him in the cave or in the manor, and he wasn't thinking logically anymore.

A part of him knew this, and struggled to make its voice heard. There were good reasons, _valid_ reasons why it might be good to bring someone with him. There were a lot of them. Someone to watch his back (that's what Robin was for. He'd find him first, and then he wouldn't need anyone else), someone who could go somewhere else if they needed to cover more ground (again, Robin), someone who could help if something went wrong (Batman didn't need help)…the list went on.

If Robin was there…but he wasn't. Batman would get him back. He _would._ But until then…

"I do not require _assistance_." He strode off. Black Canary stared darkly after him.

"I will assemble a team," she told Zatara as soon as Batman was out of earshot. "He's not going in alone, no matter how stubborn he wants to be."

Zatara watched Dinah walk away and sighed.

"Well, this should be interesting."

**A.N. On a completely random note, I hope y'all know how much you've spoiled me. Chapter before last, I got **_**nine reviews.**_** For one chapter. And then last chapter I got ten! So, hopefully this was everything y'all wanted, and no one's too disappointed in me~**

**Oh, and I found this awesome blog. XD It's for a book that I don't actually think has been published yet…but it's hilarious and really fun. :3 I was honored enough to receive a preview, however, and I can't wait to buy it! It is so cool! I figured I can't be the only one who's fed up with stupid vampire/werewolf/zombie/apocalypse books that all read the same, so I thought I'd recommend…well, the blog at least, and then the book when it comes out. :P The post on commas is my favorite. X3 If you want to read the blog, I recommend y'all start with what he wrote about commas first. Here's the link, check it out;**

**w ww . epicofahiram .c om**

**Obviously you'll want to remove the spaces.**

**Oh, before I forget—I want to rework the chapter titles so they fit better. Thoughts, suggestions, advice…?**

**Thank you! **


	7. Nyctophobia

**A.N. Two or so chapters back, I mentioned metas…please ignore that, it was an accident. X( I know the Marvel verse doesn't have metas. Also, there are **_**no**_** OCs in this chapter. Promise. I do, however, use one or two minor characters who will be explained in the A.N. at the bottom.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my gloriously creative (sarcasm :P) mind, which isn't for sale. I'm sure y'all are devastated.**

**Nyctophobia**

"The plan went wrong. Kl—_our_ control on the Riddler slipped, and he threw Robin into the water. Into the still premature spell. He was teleported, but not to our…specially prepared dimension."

"And the others?"

"Three of them have followed so far. We felt them go. They were also not transported to the expected location."

"There are six members of the team in total?"

"That is correct."

"What of the last two?"

"We do not know. We believe the League is protecting them somewhere."

"…it is unfortunate that you could not control the Riddler. It was a good plan, but it seems we overestimated you."

"It was not—we—"

"Oh, spare me your excuses. We were _so close!_"

"It _would_ be Robin who messed it up. That birdboy has the most incredible knack for dismantling the elaborate, important, well-thought-out plans of respectable villains." A dramatic sigh. "Children these days."

"So what should we do now?"

"_You_ shall do nothing! You _failed _us," the ecstatic laughter belied the dark words. "Don't you know what happens when people fail us?"

"Wait. We may still have need of them."

"She's right. Do not be so hasty."

"Gather your, ah, 'co-workers' and wait in the _place_. You will receive further instruction there."

"Say _what now?_ You're actually gonna let this guy _leave?_ After all the trouble he's caused us?"

"Go now." A warning glance, which was ignored. Still, they all waited until the magician was out of earshot before continuing.

"They failed us. We thought they were talented and practiced enough that it wouldn't be a problem. We were wrong."

"_You_ were wrong."

A single, sidelong glance was the only acknowledgement given before he continued. "The blame, then, must also rest with us.

"But do not worry. There will be mayhem enough soon. For now, let us see if we cannot yet turn this to our advantage…."

-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-

Something went wrong. Something went terribly wrong, and now he was here. Something went terribly wrong, and now he was in this other dimension where they had new poisons, different drugs that he wasn't used to, things he wasn't immune to, things that rendered him so very helpless with so little effort.

Something went wrong.

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"Ironman! Are you down there?"

"I'm—nngh—a little busy, Steve!"

This robot had to the most advanced he'd ever seen, Superboy decided. It really sounded human.

"Wait—" Captain America's shadow went before him on the stairs. "What is that noise?"

That _noise_ was Superboy doggedly ripping away another chunk of armor. Eventually, he'd damage the thing enough that it would stop _moving._ But it was taking too long. With a grunt, he broke away and sprang towards Captain America, who barely had enough time to get his shield up. But he _did_ have enough time, and Superboy found that not only could he not break the annoyingly bright, American-patterned shield, it _hurt_ to slam into it at over seventy miles per hour. While he was recovering, Captain America hurried over to a groaning Tony Stark.

"Tony—"

"Forget me! Get the kid!" Tony knew he was injured, and it only served to make him mad. His pride was stung. Bad enough the kid had beat him. Tony didn't think he could stand it if he got away with it, too. "_Go!_"

Despite Tony's insistence, Steve only took two steps forward and stopped, unsure. He didn't want to attack a teenager, no matter how strong said teenager may be. Connor didn't attack, either. He could hear people—many more people—arriving. They'd been coming for a while, searching for him, and until the stupid robot showed up, he'd been able to avoid them. But he didn't like all the heartbeats pressing in, and it dawned on him that he'd been cornered. Or, almost; the guy who looked like an American flag still hadn't attacked him, and he and the robot were the only ones so far who knew where he was, but really, that was just a matter of time, now. Connor considered his options, briefly. There weren't many. Well, technically there was only one, but Connor wasn't a technical person.

He growled lowly, and Mr. American, who'd been edging cautiously forwards with his hands up in a gesture of peace, stopped. He didn't look keen to attack, but something told Superboy it wasn't out of fear.

Another squadron of what sounded like officers pulled up above, several hundred yards to the left of them. Connor snarled softly and _jumped_—straight up through at least five feet of solid concrete and then again, soaring high above the stadium and out.

Captain America's jaw didn't drop, but it came pretty darn close. For a very odd moment, he wasn't sure what to do. Behind him, he could hear Tony cursing, but ignored him.

Black Widow appeared in the passageway behind them. She stopped short when she saw Tony.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing," he grunted, annoyed. "Our target went—"

"That way, I know. He did this to you?"

Tony's studied silence was all the answer she needed. Black Widow sighed in exasperation. "Our ride is waiting outside. Let's go!"

She and Captain America helped Tony to his feet, despite his numerous protests. They were both careful of the sparks dancing dangerously around the edges of his ruined armor. Black Widow seemed not to hear Tony's continued rants, but they grated on Steve's nerves.

"So how long before you can fix your suit?" he interrupted Tony, who glared sulkily.

"That depends. I'll need to run a diagnostic."

"And how long will that take?"

"When can I get back to the tower?"

"…don't know. Widow?"

She flipped her hair out of her face and took a moment to think. "That's up to us. We need to take care of the target before we can do anything else."

"Great. Just great." Tony muttered irritably. They climbed into the S.H.I.E.L.D. 'copter waiting for them, and Tony was settled in the back. Captain America started to tend to him, but was waved away with a grumbled "Go find WonderBoy. I'll be fine."

He wasn't, of course, but they didn't need to know that.

-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-

Robin blinked, carefully. The world still refused to come into focus. He'd been trying…he'd left the tower…he couldn't think. But he remembered he'd smiled, open and honest and trustworthy when Pepper told him breathlessly, already headed for the door, that she had to go, just stay in his room please and read a book or do something quietly. Oh, and stay out of Tony's stuff. Please. Robin had listened to the door close and watched her hail a taxi. He'd waited, waited until her car was out of sight and then walked casually out that same front door and followed her. Or, he'd tried…he'd barely gotten past the fence when he heard something behind him and tensed. He ducked the first blow instinctually, but it was as he was turning to face his first opponent, someone else materialized and shoved something that smelled sharp and sickly sweet in his face. He shoved it away, he had barely breathed any in at all, but it burned where it touched him and the next few seconds had him reliving his very first kidnapping all over again. The only difference was that instead of a black car, it was a white limousine that he was dragged unwillingly into.

And now he was trying to breathe but he felt like he was choking and he was gasping in breath but it wasn't enough. He was drifting in a shadowy place made of water mixed with memories and emotion and the color blue. But he was also being carried somewhere. He listened to a faint voice singing words he couldn't quite understand, but he was listening to an argument between several men in gruff, lowered voices as well. The men came to a decision, the voice rose in agony and he flinched.

Butterflies broke open the sky to reveal endless nothing that was color but wasn't and made him dizzy so he told it to stop and it did. He was drowning in loneliness which subsided after a while but gently pried his grip free of reality. He fell further into emptiness and watched the stars play on the surface above. And the darkness came, and it was a thick, heavy fog that poisoned and suffocated him until the light burst into colors that flew up and left him behind.

And he dreamed that he was an ancient Greek god and his name was Artemis, which didn't make sense because he was pretty sure Artemis was a girl's name, but the silver voices that made everything else in the world seem pale didn't care and called him Lord and Master. But his personalities were restless kaleidoscopes and if he moved everything would end, but he couldn't help it and he moved anyway. And then everyone was yelling at him and chastising him, but they didn't understand, those puny mortals didn't know, didn't know why, but then, neither did he. And he stirred in anxious agony, and his body was a coffin he could never escape.

-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-

Wally's heart stuttered in his chest and he gasped. That—that was Superboy! The picture was fuzzy and distant; news cameras were lame here too, apparently. But he was sure it was Superboy. And in _New York?_ Of all the places in the world…well, whatever. It didn't really matter. Kid Flash smiled, slowly. Finally, he knew where to go.

-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-

Anne Weying was waiting to die.

She was tired, so tired. Her husband—ah, but he wasn't anymore. Not that that changed anything. She still loved him. And they arrested her. They arrested her for no reason, so that he would come for her, but she told him. She told him, she stopped him from coming. But he gave her the devil that controlled her but didn't, that odd, prickly, unnatural feeling she both craved and hated.

So now she waited, patiently, for the lights to change. She looked at the building across the street through dull eyes. It was tall enough, yes. Most of these buildings were. They built buildings so tall these days, she thought, and her lips quirked up. It made everything so much easier for her.

The green turned yellow, then red, and the cars stopped. She was smiling as she stepped off the curb. The closer she got to the building, the better she felt. _Eddie,_ she thought, almost peacefully. _My love, my Eddie. I can't be with you anymore. I can't take it—the Other. _Your _Other. I have to go. _She wondered, wistfully, if he'd miss her.

The stairs were on the side of the building, in a short alleyway. She was on the second step before she noticed the limp body on the ground. Gasping softly, she drew back, surveying the dark bloodstain with wide eyes. She couldn't quite tell what was blood and what was dirt and what was shadow, but she could tell that the injuries were serious.

Anne hesitated. She wanted—she wanted to die, but—could she leave someone like that? She glanced upwards, unsure. She didn't even know if the girl was still alive.

Well, there was only one way to find that out.

Anne walked to her carefully, noting the glass on the ground and in the body and the bruise she could see darkening the side of the girl's face. She lingered a bit, glancing away and around at the mouth of the alley, hoping fervently for someone, anyone to come and do this for her.

But no one did, and Anne was not cruel enough to leave anyone, stranger or no, to bleed out all alone in a darkened alley.

The smell of blood was overwhelming, and she held her breath as she knelt down, wincing as she put her weight on the sharp glass. Her skirt and coat offered some protection, but she could still feel small slices of pain up and down her legs. She adjusted her position, and it was a little better, but then she just had to grit her teeth and ignore it.

She swallowed as she maneuvered the girl's head off of a piece of glass and tried to examine the injuries. The bruising was extensive, but the cut—extending from the back of her neck to just below her ear—was shallow. The same could not be said for those littered across her body, however. Anne reached for her purse automatically, for the first aid kit she always kept there. It seemed hopelessly small next to so much blood. For a moment, Anne considered just calling the police and leaving. But no. They would know it was Anne through their creepy, tracker caller-ID technology and they might even blame her for it. Like the men the creature—the _Other_—had killed with Anne's body. They must know about that by now.

Anne shuddered suddenly and banished the memory from her mind. She bent determinedly over the prone body before her. She'd save this girl because she was not the thing that used to control her. And she'd do it by herself.

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J.A.R.V.I.S. was having difficulty connecting to Master Tony's suit. As an artificial intelligence or 'AI' system, he could not feel worry, but something that was almost _concern_ was filtering through his synapses. He tried, again, and again, to establish a link, and failed each time. A wire sparked, and J.A.R.V.I.S. stopped.

There was something happening. Something J.A.R.V.I.S. could not name, could not comprehend. It came to him, not through his circuits but through something else, something foreign and intangible.

The lights in the Avenger's Tower flickered, and J.A.R.V.I.S. started to think.

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Zatara stopped talking mid-sentence. An odd look flitted across his face.

"Giovanni?" Black Canary's tone made Batman look up from his work on the computer. In two long strides, he was there and peering closely at Zatara's vacant expression. An instant later he caught the magician as he collapsed, simultaneously taking his pulse.

"He's not breathing, but—"

Zatara changed that, then, gasping deeply and throwing out an arm blindly. It hit Batman's Kevlar-lined side limply and was ignored. His eyes widened, staring sightlessly ahead. The dark brown irises shimmered, briefly, and for a moment they changed color, becoming—

"_Blue?_"

-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-BREAKLINE-

"What is this?" Johann Schmidt was not pleased. He'd sent his men to capture an Avenger, not a child!

The HYDRA agents looked at each other.

"Sir...it's—he's from the Tower, sir. Like you said."

Schmidt closed his eyes briefly. He hated stuttering, but he let it go. Just this once. He stalked over to the shivering body on the floor.

"I _said_ I wanted an _Avenger_. This is not an Avenger." He paused, then, running through the agent's answer in his head. "Wait. You said he was from the Tower? The _Avenger's_ Tower?"

"Yes, sir. Ms. Pepper Potts left—"

"I told you I have no interest in that woman."

"Yes, sir. That is why we did not stop her, sir. But then this child exited the Tower behind her."

"You are certain he came from the tower?"

"Yes, sir."

Schmidt looked again at the crumpled heap on the ground, hard. His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of this.

"No one is allowed in that tower," he said slowly. "No one who is not an Avenger. Stark even conducts his business elsewhere...we have been trying to infiltrate the tower for weeks now, but without success. They don't hire outsiders. They don't hire anybody. Any P.R. happens away from their headquarters…"

For a minute, two, he remained motionless. Then he was on his knees, forcibly straightening the boy's limbs and turning him so he faced upwards. The boy's eyes were clenched shut in what looked to be silent agony, and his breathing was irregular. "Why is he reacting like this? He should have woken up by now. You compensated for his size, did you not? What is he—_why is he overdosing?_"

The HYDRA agents glanced at each other uneasily. Compensated for his size? They'd just wanted him down for the count; they didn't much bother with details.

Still, that was not the cause of Robin's extreme reaction, not that they had any way of knowing that. One of the base ingredients for the sedative was quite a common toxin; it was used in Bleach, some brands of car fuel, cigars, and even soda. And it was a toxin unique to their world.

Any other person in New York could have dealt with it. They were all used to it, to a certain degree. The agents knew this, and took it into account. They had never considered that Robin might not have been exposed to it before. They had never considered that he had been immunized to drugs that they had never heard of, drugs known to Gotham but not their world. But even if they had some way of knowing this, they still probably wouldn't understand what was happening; they wouldn't have known that Robin's system had been changed by the drugs he was so often exposed to. This was affecting the new toxin, altering its properties.

The drug was mutating, and they had no way to stop it.

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Wally had never paid much attention to geography; at least, not until he became Kid Flash, and knowing the roads and cities became a necessity. And then he memorized America and parts of Canada and New Mexico. So normally, he would have no trouble finding a big city like New York. But, this wasn't his world. From the news report, New York was still in America, but that didn't say anything about _where_ in America it was.

In other words, he needed a map. Maps were not easy to find, as Kid Flash was realizing. He stalked out of the twenty-third store that didn't stock maps, fuming. _Seriously?_ What was _wrong_ with this place? How did people travel? Or did they just not?

Muttering, he turned abruptly and headed back out of the city. Forget this. He was going to run to where New York was supposed to be. If it was there, great. If not, then he would scream in frustration up at the sky. Or something. And then find something to eat, because he was getting dangerously hungry.

A few minutes later, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. New York was in the same place. He thought it looked a little different, but couldn't be sure. In the distance, he could see helicopters and, faintly, flashing lights. He couldn't hear the sirens over the noise of the city, but he was sure they were there.

He saw a building shake, and a few birds few up into the sky. Wally smiled. _Connor._

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Robin was lost in a dark place. He was lying on letters, and they were GMS, but he didn't know what that meant. And he was trying, he was trying so hard, because this had happened before and he knew. He _knew_.

He was in Gotham (had to be Gotham). He had been kidnapped (black, no, _white_ car). They wanted something from him. But he didn't know who he was. If he was Robin, they wanted to know about Batman. If he was Richard, probably Bruce or maybe an account number.

But he _didn't know._

He didn't know who they were (musical laughter—the Joker—but no), he suspected he'd never met them before (typical. Must want money. Or Batman…?). He couldn't say anything, anything, anything because he didn't know who he was. He didn't know. Just wait. Just wait, Batman will come. Batman always comes.

"Has he said anything?"

"No, sir."

"Keep trying."

"Yes, sir."

**A.N. Why do I have so much trouble giving Kid Flash the spotlight? . I do not know. He should have some more time next chapter…sigh….**

**Speaking of, sorry about the looooong delay. In a word, schoolwork. In another, overwhelming. :P But, I have not forgotten, and I will continue to update whenever I can. Thank you all so much for your support…you are all truly amazing. :)**

**Oh, before I forget; Anne Weying is an actual character. She was the ex-wife of one of Spiderman's villains—Venom, or Eddy Brock, I think his name was—and was she-venom at least twice, both times unwillingly. (Apologies if I'm wrong.) She was killed off pointlessly to make Eddy, who already hated Spiderman with a fiery, burning passion, hate Spiderman with a fiery burning passion. Needless to say, I did not like this. Y'all can look her up to make sense of the things she was saying, or you can wait until next chapter, where it'll all be explained a little more.**

**Also, do those of you who might care, Anne's portion was inspired by the song **_**Buildings**_** by Regina Spektor.**

**Constructive criticism welcomed and greatly appreciated. Please, was this chapter too fragmented? I think so…I don't like it…but I never like my own writing. :P Common curse of any writer. But I'm also super busy and so didn't edit this…I need a beta….**


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